


Nothing So Kingly

by Chuksha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Happy Childhood, M/M, Underage Smoking, eventual slash, nice!Dursleys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chuksha/pseuds/Chuksha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was born of a question in a group of Drarry shippers asking what Harry would be like if the Dursley's had treated him right. This is my response. (On Hiatus since my other fic took off. I *will* return to this one eventually)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Coming Aunt Petunia!" Harry bounded down the stairs in his socks. They were going shopping for school today. Dudley was going to Smelting’s like his dad had and Harry was going to Hogwarts! He'd miss his cousin but there was no way he would pass up the opportunity to study magic. Actual magic. He'd be making things fly and disappear. He was an actual wizard. He'd spent years worrying he wouldn't be like his parents all the while hoping that some part of them had been passed down. Then he'd turned his teacher’s hair blue when she told him off for his being messy. Aunt Petunia had been equally parts livid, proud and amused. Harry sat down at the breakfast table a moment before Dudley and got the extra piece of bacon for his trouble. He was naturally skinner than his cousin despite Aunt Petunia’s best efforts to put some meat on his bones- she said he was like his dad that way. He'd spent most of his primary school life playing after school rugby and football while Dudley favoured boxing, and it showed. What else they did after school was not for Aunt Petunia to know.

"So Harry what house do you think you'll be in?" Harry had devoured the copy of Hogwarts; A History that Mrs Figg (the squib from around the corner) had supplied after he'd gotten his letter.

"They all sound pretty cool." He sprayed around a mouthful of bacon and egg.

"Harry!" He swallowed and apologise, Aunt Petunia laughed at him as she shook her head muttering about boys.

"You said my mum and dad were Gryffindor’s right?" Harry didn't wait for an answer, "it sounds like that house has a lot of troublemakers though, and if even mum thought my dad was a toe rag as a kid I can't imagine fitting in too well there. The other houses are a bit odd though, the hufflepuffs seem a bit soft- I mean can you imagine your defining trait being fairness, you’d be squished on a rugby pitch!"

Dudley sat down and plunged into his breakfast, stopping momentarily to add.

"Well you'll fit right in with the Raven-nerds!" Harry laughed aloud. Hogwarts A History was probably the first book he'd ever read all the way through, he'd never been a big reader, he liked his Captain Underpants and Goosebumps as much as the next boy but that was about it.

"But the guy who killed my parents was a Slytherin and I don't feel like I want to be there seeing as I'm supposed to be the reason he's dead."

"Say his name Harry, you destroyed him you have that right." Aunt petunia coached lightly. "Besides your mum’s best friend for years was a Slytherin." Harry almost spat out his orange juice. He'd never known that before.

"What was his name?" Harry was always eager for new information about his parents and most of the time aunt petunia obliged.

"I didn't know him that well, his parents weren't exactly well off so he was a loner. Everyone knew old man Snape liked a drink. Young Severus wasn't too bad considering all that, but he had a bout of accidental magic before they started school that nearly put me in hospital, so I tended to avoid him. I was convinced for a while that she'd marry him though, the best part of six years it was Severus this and Severus that. I teased her something rotten."

"What happened then?"

"War." Aunt Petunia's tone carried a note of finality and Harry shut up. Severus Snape was either dead or had joined the other side then. Harry couldn't imagine his mum ever being friends with someone who would be a death eater- not the way Aunt Petunia talked about her.

Aunt petunia had spent many years carefully teaching him age appropriate truths about the war his parents had fought, and ultimately died, fighting. He knew about the ideologies and the horrors committed and he knew that somehow he, completely inexplicably and totally unexpectedly, had ended it by somehow being immune to a madman trying to kill him. His parents had been part of the secret organisation fighting Voldemort and had paid for their conviction in right and decency with their lives. There was only one other fact in Harry’s life that had shocked him more than the fact that in a secret community of people he was famous and that had been the cause of it. His dad’s best friend had betrayed them. Harry didn’t remember his parents at all, he had a few photos of them, but not much. Apparently his dad had been some sort of special policeman, Mrs Figg called them Aurors and his mum something called an Unspeakable which sounded to his eleven year old ears a lot like she was some sort of spy. Harry had been curious but the old woman had only known so much. He’d tried to find any information but basic history books the woman had from her family were only going to get him so far.

-

“So we’ll get Dudley’s stuff first then go find this pub Mrs Figg mentioned.” Dudley’s school things were easy.  “Oh Harry before I forget, here, this is the key to your bank account. You’ll need that.” Harry slipped it into his pocket as they entered the uniform shop.

The old man was a bit odd in Harry’s opinion and when he stuck a pin in Dudley’s chest Harry half expected his cousin to punch the man. His yelp of pain had already given away that he really wanted to. Harry hoped the man had the sense not to give Dudley his Smelting’s stick until they were ready to leave. His cousin did not need any excuse and Harry didn’t blame him, the old man had a leer on him that made Harry’s skin crawl. Even Uncle Vernon was muttering something about nonces and dirty old men as they left the shop. Harry knew well enough what that meant that when he exchanged looks with Dudley he was glad he’d not been the one who needed to be fitted for any clothes by that man- a part of him was wondering if Dudley could get away with something nefarious as payback.

-

“It’s right there uncle Vernon!” Harry pointed to what his aunt, uncle and cousin thought was a dark alley between two buildings. The second Harry’s hand touched the door Aunt Petunia let out a squeal like sound and Uncle Vernon took two steps back.  They’d definitely found the right place then, although it seemed a bit grimy for what Mrs Figg called ‘World Famous’.

“Oh my! It’s Harry Potter!” He actually wanted to sink into the grimy carpet of the back alley pub Mrs Figg had sent them to. The old man behind the bar looked like he had a good few screws loose and the whole place had gone quiet at his proclamation. Uncle Vernon laid a heavy hand on Harry’s shoulder, almost buckling his knees. Harry deliberately kept his head up and his mouth shut, this felt like the start of a rugby match and he didn’t fancy any of the strangers around him sensing any weakness.

“ _IF_ you wouldn’t mind we’re just here to get his school things!” Uncle Vernon’s booming voice had its uses and Aunt Petunia’s withering glare parted the crowd like the Red Sea. They may not have been magical but they were there for him, and that made Harry feel safer than he expected in this crowd of strange people who could kill them all with two words or less.

“Thanks Uncle Vernon.” Vernon squeezed his shoulder and let go as they stepped through the back door. The wall appeared to be disappearing right in front of their eyes. Harry couldn’t believe what he was seeing beyond.


	2. Making Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and the Dursley's head to Diagon Alley

"Whoa!" Dudley seemed to have been struck dumb by the wizarding world, and he wasn't the only one. Harry couldn't take it in, and it was lucky aunt petunia and uncle Vernon were there because he would have surely lost himself in the hustle and bustle of the street. It was quite lucky they had dropped into the least magical store first to get Harry's uniform.

“Why would you want to wear a dressing gown every day?” Dudley had a point, Harry felt like a real prat. 

“ _This_ is traditional clothing.” Harry almost fell off the stool, he'd been studiously ignoring the other boy there while he snarled and treated the seamstress like dirt. He didn't like the way the boy was sneering at his family either. “Of course as a muggle your idea of tradition is probably to have a phellytone with a dial.” Harry almost laughed.

“If you're going to try insult them at least do it properly.” 

“Harry.” Aunt Petunia's voice carried warning but Harry didn't care, who the hell did this kid think he was?

“Let me guess, you'd never even heard of Hogwarts until you got your letter?” The blonds tone dripped sarcasm. 

“Actually both my parents went to Hogwarts.” Harry snapped. The boy seemed to suddenly find more interest in him. 

“Oh really, what were their names?”

“Harry.” Aunt Petunia knew a trap when she saw one. Lucky Harry was finished being measured so she'd spoken just in time to tell him to hop off the stool. “Is there anything else he needs that's not on the letter?” Aunt petunia asked the woman. “Any formal wear or causal wear, sports gear maybe?”

“Oh dear lady no, he won't be playing quidditch yet, although a strapping lad like you I expect to see you playing beater in a few years.” Harry flushed, having read an old copy of _Quidditch through the ages_ he understood better than his aunt what was being said. 

“There's no real sports unless you're on a team at Hogwarts Aunt Petunia. And you can't join them in first year.” 

“Still…” 

“Don't worry I'm going to keep up training on my own, I can't be the only football or rugby fan going. And if I am there's nothing stopping me running and training that way...”

Aunt Petunia obviously didn't believe Harry had anything but good intentions, but as an adult she was well aware what good intentions could easily become when a young boy was in a new environment and ha other things to focus on. 

“Do you have enough money?”

“Yes Aunt Petunia, the goblin told me how much it all would cost and told me to take more than that for extras.” 

“I don't like the idea of you paying for your own school things. It's not right. We're you're family.” 

“I'm not paying for them, my parents are.” With the simplicity of a child Harry had won the argument. Petunia wasn't going to argue with the truth.

Uncle Vernon had decided he wanted to walk off the gut wrenching journey to the vault when they left the bank and he was just stepping through the door when Harry was paying for his uniform. 

“Vernon what did you do?” Aunt petunia's voice had climbed at least three octaves.

“I asked the goblin what all the kids want that's not on the list and got him to change the money for me.” Harry blinked stupefied by the vision in front of him. “Figured it'd make a good birthday present for our boy. The goblin told me they carry mail as well so I made sure to get a sturdy looking one that could make the trip regularly.” 

Harry's heart stopped. His uncle had always treated him right, there was no denying it, but in taking care to teach him about his parents his guardians had kept some distance between them, not wanting to encroach on his parents memory he had always been ‘just harry’. To hear the man refer to him now as if he were his own son made Harry's throat constrict and his eyes water. Dudley nudged him. Harry threw himself at his uncle and hugged him hard. He hoped uncle Vernon realised why because there was no way he could put in into words. 

The snowy owl hooted as his uncle patted his hair awkwardly and Harry stepped back. 

“Well, no excuse not to keep in touch now boy, we’ll be expecting enough letters that I don't have to keep your aunt petunia from packing her bags to come and find you and make sure you're eating properly.” Harry laughed. 

“I promise.”

"So where next?" Harry dug around in his pocket for the letter. He mentally ticked off the items as he scanned the list.

“Just wand and books now.” He ignored Dudley’s disbelieving mutter of ‘wand’ as they all bid goodbye to the lady in the shop and headed out.

“Hey, see you at school.” The blond seemed put out that Harry had refused to speak to him. He spun around as he stepped out the door.

“Not if I see you first blondie.” It was when Aunt Petunia didn't tell him off and Uncle Vernon patted his back heartily that Harry realised he wasn't the only one who thought the other boy was a right prat.

“That’s our Harry,” Dudley said loudly as the door sung shut, “making enemies before he even knows their names.” Dudley was lucky that all Harry did was knock into him playfully in response. Harry might have been skinny but he had twice the brute strength in his legs than Dudley could muster up on his best day in the ring- one good shove could have easily floored the bigger boy.

-  
Harry had never been a reader, he was a do-er, but even he was fascinated by the Flourish and Blotts. Piled twice uncle Vernon’s height and with no really discernible system it seemed more like there's stepped into a jumble sale than a bookshop. Harry was instantly drawn to a shelf with old fashioned tomes that seemed to mock their appearance with names like “ _Saucy tricks for tricky sorts… Bedazzle your friends and bamboozle your enemies in a hundred different ways_.” 

“No Harry!” He wasn't seriously considering it, even before Aunt Petunia’s stern glare, but he laughed at some of the descriptions of some of the spells in the first pages. As he perused he realised that his pranks were about to get ten times more epic as his magical skill developed.

“Hogwarts better watch out, eh?” Harry bit his lip at his cousins’ whisper and grinned as he took a copy of the standard book of spells from the shelf. Some of these things were inspired! Or the uses he was thinking for them definitely were.

“Got everything Harry?”

“I think so Uncle Vernon, can I get some extra history books and stuff, you know like the ones Mrs Figg lent me?” 

He’d finally found what passed for the history section after Uncle Vernon told him he could spend up to £20 on the books, which worked out at about 4 galleons and with books being priced in sickles Harry wasn’t limited by price. He was just looking at a book called “ _Modern Magical History_ ” and marvelling at seeing his own name in the appendix when a bushy haired girl about his height knocked into him.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, it’s so cramped in here you just can’t move properly can you it’s really not helpful when you’re loaded down with books and trying to find more, is it?” Harry blinked, he didn’t think she’d drawn breath in that entire little speech. She smiled at him and Harry was struck instantly by the buck teeth and dark freckles over a very sunburnt nose. And the hair, _didn’t she own a brush?_ He refrained from smirking, she seemed like exactly the kind of girl he and Dudley would have singled out for a little light teasing this time last year in school. “Sorry.” He managed a genuine smile. “The owner sent me over here with some recommendations.” 

“Oh yeah, like what?” 

“Well I don’t have any magical family,” muggle-born his memory of reading _Hogwarts: a History_ supplied, “So I just wanted to learn a bit about what I’m getting myself into. My parents are dentists you see.” Harry really did smile then. She seemed not unkind if a bit awkward.

“My parents died when I was a baby, they were magical so I grew up with my aunt and uncle, but they’re not, so I suppose we’re in the same boat really.” He held out the book he was holding as she muttered the usual sympathies and handed him the list to scan. “This one looks pretty good, goes all the way back to the seventeen hundreds.” She took it and smiled back. 

“Oh yes, the owner recommended this one!” She took it and leafed through quickly before closing it sharply and sticking out her hand. “I’m Hermione, by the way, Hermione Granger.” Harry took it and shook.

“Harry, Harry Potter.” He let go and grabbed another copy of the book.

“Oh, make sure you read Hogwarts: A History too, it’s brilliant for giving a good background into the school.” 

“Oh I will, thank you, Harry.” 

“I’ll see you on the train to school then?” He ventured cautiously as he handed her list back, it was always a good idea bookworm for a friend (it saved the effort of bullying or bribing them for homework help) and it couldn’t be a bad idea to have someone to talk to who knew what a phone or tv were without needing them explained. 

“Sure!” She smiled again but instead of wanting to laugh at her teeth, hair or freckles Harry now found them slightly endearing, and a small part of himself willing to punch anyone who dared be mean to this girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A dressing gown is the same thing as a bathrobe


	3. Aboard The Hogwarts Express

C3

Harry was quite horrified by some of the theories the historians had for how he'd ‘defeated the dark lord.’ And he was rather hoping that none of them were right. He started skipping over the speculations when he got to them in books- he didn't want to read about how he was a changeling or how his mother had switched him with a local muggle baby that night. The best historians he found gave those arguments then thoroughly debunked them leaving the question open. He'd simply decided it was what it was. And that he was going to watch his back around that blond kid from the robe shop- because from the descriptions he'd bet his life that prat was a Malfoy. Apparently his father had been acquitted of any wrongdoing then made several large donations to charity. When Harry had show aunt petunia that she'd agreed, that family were rotten. 

Harry didn't expect to sleep tonight, between the books and his excitement he didn't think he would ever relax enough to nod off- he was going to Hogwarts tomorrow! Even Dudley’s ribbing that he had an extra week off school didn't do anything but make Harry stick out his tongue and laugh along with his cousin. It was past midnight and he was sat under his duvet with a torch reading again. It wasn't that he enjoyed it he just wanted to take the opportunity he had and grab it with both hands. Even Dudley had taken to reading up on the history of Smeltings. 

Hedwig hooted and Harry looked up. He'd named her for someone in a history textbook. She hadn't bitten him when he'd called her that so he'd thought it to be as good a name as any. She liked bacon and the owl treats she'd come with were a real hit, so much so that he'd sent her with a letter to the owl shop with two galleons and asked for as many owl treats as they could buy. Two owls had returned and a kind letter detailing their storage and a complimentary spell to keep them fresh indefinitely along with details on how to cast it in future. He'd slipped the letter into his copy of the standard book of spells and made a note to ask one of the teachers to show it to him before he tried it.

Harry must have fallen sleep at one point because he woke to aunt petunia rat-at-atting on his door calling him to breakfast. He bolted out of bed and was dressed at lightning speed. Students usually change on the train, apparently, so jeans and trainers were the order of the day. It wasn't strictly necessary, London did get its fair share of oddly dressed weirdos on a day to day basis but that didn't mean he wanted to be one of them.

It seemed like no time between uncle Vernon demanding he finish eating and arriving at King's Cross, even the traffic seemed to be on their side and in the London rush hour that was no little thing. It was only when he got to the station he realised the issue. There was no such platform 9 3/4. Aunt petunia had the answer again. So many strange things going on already, now she wanted him to run full pelt at a brick wall. It seemed he wasn't the only prankster in the wizarding world! He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when they made it through unscathed.

The steam train looked like something straight out of the eighteen hundreds. It was beautiful. Harry had to stop for a moment just to look. Right until someone nearly knocked him clean onto the tracks. He swung around without thinking, guns blazing, ready to let rip- and his face broke into a wide grin.

“Hermione you have to stop running into me, one day you’re going to do some serious damage!” The end of his sentence was drowned out by her squeal of delight and their hurried introductions to their respective families. 

“We better move out the way before we get flattened, there's a huge family behind us of about ten people.”

Once off to the side their respective families started to bond and Hermione tilted her head calling Harry to one side. As soon as they were out of earshot she started.

“You know I've been reading on wizarding history?” Harry sighed and pre-empted her next question. He lifted his fringe for a second so she could see the scar then dropped his hair. “Oh Harry I'm sorry, when you said your parents were dead I didn't realise.” She looked like she might want to hug him but was holding back, for that Harry was grateful. People always seemed more upset by his parents dying and more pitying than was necessary and it tended to get annoying. 

“My aunt and uncle are good people, my parents were good people and they were killed and that's the end of it. I just want to get on in life and make them proud.”

“You know you're going to get a lot of attention, don't you?”

“Don’t worry I can take care of myself.”

She looked him up and down as if he were stating the obvious.

“It doesn't hurt to have friends you know.” She harrumphed at him.

“I know but being someone's friend means not dragging them into your drama.”

“Being a friend means not leaving someone to deal with drama on their own.” Harry glared, girls and their logic- there was a reason he'd stuck to playing sports at school and the only interaction he had with girls was to pull their pigtails. A whistle cut off his reply and aunt Petunia called him back to say goodbye. 

“Your trunk is on the train Harry, don't forget to write to us once you've settled in.” With final goodbyes and a last minute dash to the train the final horn sounded and they were off to Hogwarts!

-

It had taken forever to find a carriage and eventually they'd had to join up with another boy who looked as lost as they were. Round faced and soft-seeming, Neville Longbottom didn't strike Harry as anything but the kind of kid who would be teased mercilessly about every aspect of his existence- from his round face to his made-to-mock surname and toad for a pet. It wasn't even the pet itself, but who in their right mind named a toad at all, never mind calling it Trevor! However, despite that it wasn't long before they got chatting about Hogwarts, their families and what they already knew about the school. Inevitably the conversation turned to houses.

“Both my parents are Gryffindors.” Having read about that house Harry could understand why that fact might make Neville gloomy. Even from the few hour he'd known the boy Harry knew it wouldn't be a good fit for him. “My grandmother wants me to take after my father, I even have his wand.”

“I read that Dumbledore himself was a Gryffindor.” Hermione chipped in, Harry kept quiet. He'd been reading and reading and developing a fondness for Slytherin, it's ethos and its history for days. He was saved from speaking when Neville exclaimed suddenly.

“Oh no! Where's Trevor?!” They turned the carriage upside down looking for him. No luck. It was soon decided they should split up and search the train. Hermione would start at the back, Harry at the front and Neville would wait to see if he came back before they did. 

The prefect carriages were at the front and Harry tried those first, the older students were kind enough to check but didn't seem too bothered by the loss or willing to help. It didn't matter, it was just a toad after all. 

Harry was between carriages when he spotted the boy from the robe shop. He wanted to skip that carriage but he didn't want to let Neville down. Besides the blond was tiny even if his two friends were pretty big. Harry took a breath, slid the door open and spoke.

“Hi, have any of you seen a toad around. A kid up the train has lost his?” The blond looked up at him and frowned.

“No now get out.” Harry didn't move. “What's wrong are you deaf as well as stupid?”

“Neither, in fact I'm smart enough to know that in about ten seconds you're going to trip over yourself to help and apologise to me.” He looked the boy dead in the eye and waited. Eyes narrowed.

“Who are you?” The girl in the carriage had butted in. She was neither much to look at nor instantly likeable like Hermione. Harry had assessed and dismissed her in a moment or less.

“My names Harry, now are you going to look for the toad or not?” He was deliberately stalling, waiting for the uproar when they recognised either his name or his scar. After the kerfuffle the day he'd gone to get his school things in the pub he had a very good idea how famous he was. She finally spotted his scar.

“Oh merlin, you're Harry Potter!” Harry rolled his eyes emphatically.

“Don't be stupid Pansy, there’s no way Harry Potter was raised by muggles or would dress like _that!_ ” The blond looked closer at him and let out a mild curse. Harry didn't bother waiting any longer. He'd had enough of being stared at. He left for the next carriage.

He was just about to knock on the next door when Hermione found him. 

“We found Trevor, he was in Neville’s bag!” Harry laughed and sighed to himself, Neville was turning out to be exactly as Harry suspected, kind and decent but bumbling. “We better get ready the train will arrive at Hogwarts soon.” By the time Harry made it back to get his uniform and change Hermione had left, probably for the loo’s, to do the same with some privacy from the boys. 


	4. The Wheat From The Chaff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sorting hat awaits....

By the time they fought their way through the rush of the crowd on the arrivals platform Harry was the only one not battered, and that was mainly because he had battered right back. It was like a scrum but bigger! He grabbed another boy just before he was pushed over the ledge of the train door to his knees. 

“You ok there?” The boy was heavier than Harry expected and easily a head taller than him. A hasty thanks and the boy looked up at him as he righted himself. 

“You’re-“ Harry shushed him quickly. 

“They’re calling for first years that way. What’s your name?”

“Ron, Ron Weasley.”

“Nice to meet you Ron, Ron Weasley, come Meet Neville and Hermione.” By the time the found the large man calling out for the youngest students they had all become something like friends.

“So we go by boat to the castle to pass some kind of test to decide what house we'll be in?” 

“My brothers said you have to wrestle a troll.” Ron seemed decent if a bit slow on the uptake. Harry exchanges looks with Hermione, even Neville looked horrified at the boy’s lack of knowledge. It was right there in the set texts. There was a spell on the hat; Gryffindor’s hat, Ravenclaw’s a spell, Slytherin's power and Hufflepuff’s creativity. Literally the founders gave some of themselves to it and the hat did the rest. Harry was about to open his mouth when Neville nudged him and shook his head. 

“Who knows?” Harry muttered lamely, “it can't be anything too dangerous we’re kids after all.” That seemed to soothe Ron’s nerves slightly and he was off extolling the virtues of Gryffindor and everything to do with it. Harry cringed internally. Another kid he liked who'd probably hate him by the end of the night. The more he sat with these people the more he realised he wasn't like them. 

He wasn't bookish and eager like Hermione who had obviously been bullied before or quietly kind like Neville who didn't have many social skills to speak of, or even brash and slightly trollish like Ron who obviously had a big family and had learned to be loud from a young age. He was the kid who would have bullied kids like them a few months ago, he was the kid who noticed people's flaws first and their virtues after. He was the kid who spent his lunchtimes hopping fences, sneaking into high schools to smoke with the older kids and pushing smaller boys around just because he could. None of the teachers were going to give him detention. He was the star sports player for the school. You didn't survive as an orphan unless you either got tough or had protection in school. Harry had both. He wondered what that made him now. No one pitied him at his old school because they got a good kicking for their trouble. He didn't want to be defined at the orphan boy but it seemed he'd already been dropped into the mould here. 

“Right around this corner your first view of Hogwarts folks!”

It was like a kick to the gut, the castle was beautiful, in ways Harry couldn't describe, it only cemented the fact that his whole worldview had just shifted completely. He'd visited castles and ruins but this was beyond compare. This was what happened when you took the grandeur of the inside of Buckingham Palace and dropped it into a building that made York Minster look insignificant and small. I was everything he’d imagined, dreamed, and wished for. Harry suddenly felt very small. Judging by the sounds his classmates were making he wasn’t the only one.

-

They seemed to be huddled inside what Harry assumed must be a relatively small ante-chamber, although it could fit his aunt and uncle’s house in it five times over- easily. There didn’t seem to be anyone about as they milled around and Harry who was used to trying out for sports teams knew exactly what this was and that they would be being watched closely.

“Hey, Potter!” he whipped around without thinking. Several heads turned. Of course it was Malfoy who made his way through the crowd to him, flanked by the two bigger boys Harry had taken to calling Knuckles and Grunt in his head. “You might have said who you were in the robe shop, Potter.”

“And you might have been a bit nicer to my family... Malfoy, was it?” Malfoy didn’t seem phased by Harry’s sharp response in fact he seemed pleased Harry knew his name. Instead he was studying Hermione, Neville and Ron who had also stepped behind him in his defence. Harry was touched at the gesture but he really didn’t need it. 

“This is who you’re hanging around with.” It wasn’t a question and Harry didn’t answer. Malfoy looked Ron up and down scornfully, Harry wondered if that look had ever been that ugly on his own face for a moment before he was dragged into the present. “The pauper Weasley here who’s probably never had new clothes in his life,” The sneer transferred to Neville who was holding onto Trevor for dear life, “Sweet Merlin, whoever thought giving a student a toad was a good idea in this day and age?” Neville looked about to answer but Harry surreptitiously stood on his toes, and finally Malfoy’s eyes landed on Hermione. “And what is this? They finally managed to breed a wizard and his rabbit.” Harry felt Hermione shift behind him, he was almost certain he heard her growl and he made a mental note not to annoy her anytime soon if he could help it. 

“Clearly no one bothered to tell you who you _are_ , and that you are definitely better than this, not to worry though I can help you there.” Harry almost gagged when the boy put his hand out. He glared coldly.

“I know who I am, I know who you are, and I know I don’t need help from the likes of you, Malfoy. Now bugger off!” There was no time for more conversation as the doors to the great hall swung open.

-

Harry wasn’t sure how much more of the sorting he could take, once Ron had stopped complaining about his brothers and moved on to imagining different hat-themed ways he could kill them for lying to him Harry’s attention had switch to the room itself. He could feel the magic in here, the candles and the ceiling and the whole feel of the place just sparkled and glowed. He got a sudden feeling that this was as close as he’d ever get to heaven in this life. 

“Hermione Granger.” Harry tuned back in. Hermione practically hopped to the hat in her excitement and nerves. She sat on the stool and Harry waited, just like everyone else. Neville had hold of his arm, tightly. 

“Gryffindor!” Harry’s unease was setting in now, he hoped the house rivalries weren’t as bad as the books made out, it would be very difficult to maintain any friendship if they weren’t all together otherwise.

“Neville Longbottom.” 

_”Good Luck!”_ Poor Neville looked like death-warmed-up as he stumbled across the dais and sank onto the stool. Harry knew Neville wanted Gryffindor but he really didn’t think it would suit the boy, he was a Hufflepuff to the core- kind, decent and loyal to a fault.

“Gryffindor!” Harry’s stomach did a summersault. He tuned out for the total of six seconds it took for Malfoy to sort into Slytherin. The hat barely touched the kid’s head. Harry liked Slytherin for its ambition and its honour but he knew exactly why Malfoy had gone there- Slytherin had been old fashioned, and that meant he espoused the stupid pureblood ideology Voldemort and his ilk were keen on. Harry’s legs turned to jelly as his name was called. The whole hall seemed to stop for a moment as he forced one foot in front of the other and settled onto the stool. Obviously the hat communicated in some way with the students-

“That’s correct Mister Potter.” Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. The hat was whispering in his ear!

_“Now let's see, plenty of courage I see, not a bad mind either. There's talent oh yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?” Harry waited carefully. He couldn't help himself._

_“I know I suit Slytherin pretty well.”_

“Not wrong there young man, but I fear you are hesitating. _”Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that. but would you be happy?”_

“I'm here to study. Does that matter?” 

"You're also going to live here for seven years dear boy.” 

“Don't call me that. I want to do well and do some good.” 

“Ambitious aren't we? Good luck Mr Potter, remember small is the gate and narrow the road… SLYTHERIN!” 

The hat was whipped off his head to absolute dead silence. A few seconds later the Slytherin table exploded with applause and Harry staggered to the table. 

He didn't take in the rest of the sorting in, between random housemates moving down to welcome him, occasional applause as more students were sorted and his own racing thoughts Harry barely noticed when Ron too was sorted into Gryffindor. He was too busy watching Malfoy, the kid was assessing him and seemed to get more and more annoyed as the list of Slytherins approaching Harry as the feast wore on didn’t acknowledge him or did so only in passing or as an afterthought. It was definitely going to be an interesting seven years of school. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll recognise some lines from the films and books, i borrowed them for effect
> 
> I gave Harry a slightly Christian background mainly so i can borrow occasional pithy religious quotations where they fit, it makes little or no difference right now to the story as a whole except that it's a tiny part of his character you might not be familiar with
> 
> PS. AureliaLanel, this chapter is for you, it was always the plan and i felt so bad leaving you hanging- don't worry i know what i'm doing! (A small clue, i love political drama and slow burning romances ;) )


	5. New Beginings

Harry had eaten just enough to ease himself into a light lethargy by the time the headmaster made his proper speech, Harry didn't really feel like listening but he made a show. It was obvious he was being watched. He almost laughed at the warning about the third floor corridor but when he realised the headmaster was serious his stomach churned. It didn’t seem like he was the only one. A few Gryffindors tried to laugh but it was hollow and weak. Harry turned to a nearby older student.

“He’s not joking, is he?” He got a scathing look for his trouble. That was Harry told then. He missed the end of the speech and didn’t look up until someone called his name.

“Potter, someone wanting you.” Harry followed the nod with his eyes and found Hermione and Neville. They didn’t hold any punches. Harry didn’t expect them to. It was Hermione who spoke.

“Do you have a problem with muggle-borns?” Harry felt like a world of hurt had just fallen on his head.

“What? No! Of course not. I don’t care about what blood you have I care about who you are.” Hermione visibly relaxed. Even Neville looked relieved. Hermione actually hugged him. Harry froze. 

“Watch your back Harry, there’s a lot of people who don’t like you after tonight, and you still have to share a house with the Malfoy boy.” Harry caught up and squeezed back into her hug before letting go.

“I will, you take care too ok? I don’t think Gryffindors like me much- don’t antagonise them over me.” 

“I’ll look after her, Harry.” Neville half squeaked. As terrified as Neville sounded both Harry and Hermione were touched. “My family go back in the house a long time, it doesn’t mean much with them but it’s something.” Harry nodded and offered Neville his hand to shake. His whole body sagged with relief when Neville took it.

-

If Harry had thought he could roll into bed as soon as he found the other first years and had been led to the dungeons he was sadly mistaken. He hoped all the other houses were being kept up by their heads of houses for some kind of speech too. By the end of the night he would be glad he’d stayed awake for it.  
The prefect who’d led them there gave the expected instructions, single bathrooms attached to rooms, boys on one floor girls on the other. No swapping rooms, no sneaking onto other floors. First year curfew is eight o’clock and breakfast is at eight in the morning. A prefect will leave the common room at a quarter to eight tomorrow and all first years are expected to be ready to set off for breakfast by then. Students will find a detailed map of the school to learn and carry in the first week on their beds along with a mandatory appointment with the head of house next week. Muggle born, muggle raised or half-blood students would be provided with reading on the history of the wizarding world, an introduction to wizarding politics, magical etiquette and any other information deemed required to a seamless introduction to the wizarding world and Slytherins house. They were expected to make these studies their top priorities in the first week when homework for classes was not expected to be set. 

When their head of house, Professor Snape, arrived the prefects ceded the floor to him. He didn’t seem to be a man of many words but he spoke eloquently enough for the little speech to be seared into Harry’s memory despite the late hour and his exhaustion.

 _“Look around yourselves.” He actually paused to give them chance. “This house is now your home. You are Slytherins. Beyond this walls you are united. Your petty differences end here. You are family. Act like it.”_ Actual dead silence. Harry waited with his breath held for someone to break it. “Now to bed with you.” And a few of the braver, more observant, Slytherins would have sworn under the influence of any truth drug you like that they saw him smile at them. The others weren’t stupid enough to dare suggest he knew how.  
-

-  
Judging by the lack of first years who made it on time for breakfast they were either all lost, which was still very doable even with a map, or had fed themselves into such a stupor they had not yet woken. The Slytherin first years trooped into the hall having already spent several minutes before setting off having everyone's robes and uniform checked for neatness. The idea was that today they set a standard and they would have to live up to it. None of the professors looked up as they came in and took their seats. 

“Eat well,” the prefect, Alexander Virgil – a stocky dark haired half-blood with a Russian twang, called down the table, “you have a long day before lunch today.”

They had barely begun eating when Professor Snape arrived with the timetables. Harry suddenly felt extremely self-conscious about his table manners, his hair which even Virgil hadn't been able to make stay down, his very existence. It had only been after he'd rolled into bed last night after noting the appointment for that night at six that he'd realised, his head of house was his mother’s old friend. He had never been so nervous for an appointment in his life. 

Harry had stayed up by candle light to write home, and he hadn't been the only one. The quill had driven him mad enough that he'd added a postscript to the letter begging for a few decent fountain pens and several ink cartridges for them. 

“Those wishing to send letters home may follow me now in order to do so before your first class.” Harry had expected to have to find it on his first break of the day, which he noted was after his second lesson.

Harry jumped to his feet along with a few other of the first years. Including Malfoy. He steeled himself for a decision he'd made just last night.

"Hey Malfoy, listen, can we talk?” They filed out of the hall and through the maze of corridors as Malfoy hung back and let Harry say his piece. Harry could go out of his way to make Malfoy’s life a misery and it wouldn't make much difference to him but he'd decided he’d rather not

“We have to spend the next seven years eating at the same tables and living in the same house. How do you feel about calling a truce?”

Malfoy didn't answer as they climbed the stairs. 

"You turned down my friendship publicly Potter...” Harry knew where this was going, playground politics. 

“I'll make it up to you.” Malfoy seemed pleased with Harry's willingness to put himself in a weaker bargaining position. Harry wasn't stupid though he knew what he was doing. Seeing the boy from the train, Ron glaring at him this morning and already sniping at Malfoy, had only solidified his plans. 

“Alright.” Harry stopped as they entered the owlry and turned to face Malfoy. He put his hand out. It was only then that he realised they were being watched by almost everyone else in the room and several of the owls. After a moment Malfoy took it and shook his hand firmly. Harry hadn't expected such delicate mummy's-boy hands to have so much strength. Once Harry had his letter tied firmly to Hedwig’s leg, he'd had to have professor Snape show him after almost cutting off her blood supply in his unpractised haste, it was time for class.

“We've all got transfiguration with the Gryffindors first thing.” Malfoy muttered in Harry's ear. “Got your map?”

They made it to the classroom five minutes early and had taken their seats by the time the last Gryffindors arrived. Hermione sat with Neville and Harry deliberately seated himself next to Malfoy, He shot a wink at Hermione’s questioning look.

Harry had just settled down and got his parchment and books ready when Ron Weasley clattered into the classroom with two other Gryffindor boys on his tail.

“Whew, made it!” Harry exchanged a look with Malfoy, did Weasley not know? It was in three different history books and the appendix of their transfiguration text. Harry looked up just in time to see professor McGonagall transform, even expecting it he couldn’t contain his gasp of awe. He completely missed what Ron said. Malfoy’s snicker as the professor responded almost got him into trouble but Harry faked a cough over the laugh and kicked him under the table in warning. 

-

Transfiguration gave him a headache, despite having read the chapter twice before. He was grateful to get down into the cool dimness of the dungeons for potions. This class he had been looking forward to. It actually made sense when he read the texts, a lot of it was about precision and timing but when you got good the potential for experimentation was exponential and that excited him. 

Harry jumped a mile in his seat when Professor Snape stormed in, and almost upset his ink bottle in his haste to get his quill ready to write. He was halfway through writing when Professor Snape’s shadow loomed over him.

“Potter, what are you doing?” Harry swallowed back his nerves.

“Taking notes, sir.” The teacher raised an eyebrow and picked up the exercise book before scanning the page.

“Tell me Potter, what use are notes that are almost completely illegible?”

“I can read them, sir, these are just rough.” Snape looked vaguely impressed. Harry didn’t think it was a good idea to mention the Self-Writing Quill he’d decided to spend a few galleons on when Uncle Vernon had turned his back in Flourish and Blotts.

“We shall see… Tell me Potter what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” 

“Is that the base for the Draught of Living Death, Professor?” Harry hesitated before he asked but he was sure that was the one he’d remembered by telling himself that _Lilies sleep in the woods with the worms._

“And where Mister Potter would you look were I to ask you to find me a bezoar?”

“That’s the stone from a goat’s stomach, professor. It’s a useful cure for most simple poisons.” 

“Perhaps you might like to teach this class.” Harry’s heart dropped, what had he done wrong? “Do tell your classmates, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfs bane?” It had been Dudley who came up with the memory trick for that one- _in the Middle Ages hooded monks exorcised werewolves at night._ It wasn’t the best but it did the trick.

“They’re the same, sir, before the name changed to wolfsbane when they realised it was excellent bait and poison for wild animals it was known as aconite.” Even Malfoy let out a low whistle next to him. Harry had been determined to do well in this class and he’d studied accordingly. 

“Well, at least someone appears to have done the reading…. And why is no one taking notes!” A sudden flurry of movement almost drowned out the potion’s master’s next words.

“Take ten point for Slytherin, Potter.” 

Malfoy nudged him and nodded approvingly. Harry couldn't help wondering if all this magic stuff could really be this easy to get his head around.

-

The day had passed with a flurry of classes and minor mishaps revolving around getting lost and the changing staircases. Even Draco, besides some random muttering a about security, couldn't explain the logic of having them. 

Harry had claimed a spot by the fire and brought down a book on magical etiquette along with a quill and some parchment. Draco was proving extremely helpful in helping him work out what half of this meant. After about an hour Harry's brain felt like it had been wrung out look a sponge.

“So basically act, talk and walk like Darcy?” Draco eyed him warily for a moment.

“I didn't know muggles knew Austen?” Harry blinked. 

“She's world famous as a writer. She was a witch?”

“Is a witch, she lives in Yorkshire somewhere. Lives a quiet life and occasionally publishes a treaties on modern literature or a short story. She’s Family Witch magazines bestselling writer of all time. My mother adores her and subscribes to it.” 

Harry gaped. That would make the woman at least a hundred and fifty years old. He wasn't aware he'd said that thought out loud.

“How old do you think Headmaster Dumbledore is?” Harry hadn't thought about it. 

“Early seventies?” He guessed vaguely.

“Add twenty years or more, and he's considered a fairly young headmaster.” Harry stared. While they had been talking he'd completely lost track of time. 

“Hey Potter, your appointment is in ten minutes, don't you think you should start making a move?” Harry looked at his watch and almost swore. He jumped up, hastily packed his things into his bag and with a hasty ‘see you later’ to Draco and half-shouted thanks to Virgil he made for the door. 

He arrived outside Professor Snape’s office, mildly winded from the run, just as the boy before him was leaving. He straightened himself up and caught his breath before knocking. 

-

Professor Snape didn't speak for a moment when Harry entered except to bid him take a seat. He appeared to be reading something. Eventually he looked up and greeted Harry properly.

“How have you found your first day?” Harry could have launched into a tirade about how epic and amazing magic, the school, and his classes were but he held back.

“It's been good, sir, I imagine once I stop getting lost it'll be even better.” He smiled slightly in an attempt to calm his own nerves. 

“Indeed.” Professor Snape actually half-smiled at him.

“Good reports from your Professors, I was particularly impressed by your potions performance today.” 

“Thank you sir, I studied hard, I find potions fascinating.”

“Professor McGonagall reports you appeared to struggle with the theory of transfiguration but had completed the task by the end of the class. Do you feel like you would require any extra support in that class?” Harry hesitated. It seemed he had a knack for transfiguration and potions but the maths was way beyond him.

“I'm struggling with the maths of it sir, I went to a good primary school but didn't do anything on this level of algebra. I would like to be able to properly understand what I'm doing rather than just waving a wand and hoping for the best.”

Professor Snape made a note.

“I will speak to an older student on your behalf, she will approach you to arrange any mentoring you require in the subject. Baildon is an excellent student of transfiguration.”

“Thank you sir.” 

“You appear to have been studying the etiquette manual left in your possession. Any questions?” 

"None sir, Draco has offered to help with that, we were studying before I came here tonight.”

“Do you have any other questions then, Potter.”

Harry hesitated but professor Snape obviously knew there was something because he waited. 

“Sir, I don't know if you'll know, I suppose everyone here does so you will, I know it's a while away but my aunt usually takes me to my parents grave on Halloween, it's their anniversary you see…” Harry realised what he'd said but he couldn't go back now, “is there a way for me to get permission to go somehow? I've never missed it and I don't really want to let them down.” Christmas was a holiday so it wasn't an issue. It was a sore spot for Harry, in all his years visiting he'd never seen anything on the grave but what he left there and he felt bad enough leaving It for the months he was at school- of course aunt petunia would visit her sister but Harry didn't think his dad had anyone. “I don't think my dad had any family left, I've never seen any sign anyway… I just, aunt petunia will look after it for my mum but she didn't know him that well so there's no connection, it's stupid, sorry.” 

"Potter, you clearly felt the need to babble and as your head of house, especially on such a sensitive topic, I am inclined to allow it. Do not make it a habit, it makes you appear soft headed.” Harry almost argued, when it came to his parents he had a right to be ‘soft-headed’. He held his tongue “To paraphrase you wish to visit your parent’s grave on the anniversary of their death?” Harry swallowed and nodded. All the thoughts of his dad having no one had raised a lump in his throat. The man had loved him enough to die for him, even if he'd known nothing else that should have been a good enough reason. “Were you under the impression that this would not be allowed?”

“Well aunt petunia said that the headmaster told her years ago that it was dangerous for me to be away from some protections on the house without an adult. And aunt petunia's not here…”

“I will make arrangements to have a member of staff accompany you to meet your aunt and see your safe return to school. Please enquire with your aunt what time in the day she would like to meet you and when she would expect you to be able to return to school so arrangements can be made for any classes you may miss.”

“It'll definitely be before sunset, professor, the cemetery gates get locked around that time, but I will double check.” 

“Is there anything else, potter?” 

“Aunt Petunia says she knows you.” He blurted it out before he could stop himself. To his credit professor Snape didn't even blink. 

“I daresay she is correct. We lived within walking distance of each other's homes as children, although I was closer to your mother both in age and in terms of familiarity.” 

“Do you mind telling me a bit about my mum, sir? When she was my age? Aunt petunia told me some things but I know what older siblings are like, they don't pay that much attention. I know Dudley doesn't with me- not really.”

“Dudley would be your cousin.” It wasn't a question but Harry nodded anyway. 

"We were never in the same classes, and had different friends.” 

“I am sure I could share many tales of your mother, Potter, in due course we will make arrangements.” Harry tried his best to hide his disappointment, it was a better response than he expected. “Like your mother, Potter, you are completely incapable of schooling your facial expressions.” Harry tried to stammer out an apology but professor Snape put up a hand to stop him. “Her eyes are dangerous tools of persuasion, Mister Potter, do take care how you use them.” Harry gaped for a moment. 

“Yes sir.” 

“Enough for this evening then, you have studies to attend to.” Harry knew a dismissal when he heard one. He stood and bowed his head lightly to his head of house. Draco had taught him that one earlier. 

“Good evening, sir.” 

“Mister Potter.” Harry froze at the door and turned back around. “Please allow me the honour of being the first person in our world to tell you how proud of you your mother would have been should she have lived to see you now.” Tears rushed into Harry’s eyes but he managed to just about blink them back. His voice cracked when he replied.

“T-thank you, sir. That means a lot.” Professor Snape waved him away and Harry almost fled past Zabini in his hurry to find a dark alcove to catch his breath and swipe the tears from his cheeks before they left any marks. It would be many years before he understood the true meaning of that meeting, before he realised that he had been thoroughly played by his head of house, and many more years more before he understood that he owed the man a great debt of gratitude for it.


	6. A Flying Start

Harry woke the next morning with a renewed sense of purpose. He didn't get lost finding the great hall and he was well looking forward to the day ahead. He had charms and defence this afternoon after a morning of flying and herbology. The idea of broomsticks had made him laugh at first, having pictures the stereotypical cackling witch on her broomstick, but he was finding himself quietly excited for the opportunity. Draco hadn't shut up about not being allowed to bring his own broom and had assured Harry he would be a natural- but wouldn't say why. Instead he'd simply said, “I’ll show you after classes”. With that and After aunt petunia's description of his mum making teacups dance and a cursory look over the charms text it was obvious that was where she had excelled. It would be nice to have inherited something other than her eyes from his mum. 

Harry almost upset his pumpkin juice when Hedwig landed next to his plate with a small parcel attached. He gave her a piece of bacon and untied it. He opened the letter first and read:  
 _  
Dear Harry,_

_It sounds like your first night was busy! Your owl arrived just as we were going shopping earlier so I picked you up a couple of Parker pens and some ink cartridges. I've see that parchment you have to write on it needs high quality nibs. Do let me know if you need any more, won't you? Can your owl carry bigger packages? Your uncle forgot to ask in the shop but I was going to make a treacle tart and send you some if she can handle it. Anyway I remember that the post comes at breakfast at your school so have a nice day and finish eating. I'm sure you'll have time to write back later._

_Dudley says it's not the same killing aliens without you._

_All our love,  
Your aunt petunia, uncle Vernon and Dudley. _

Harry folded the letter and pocketed it. He sent a small wave at Neville who was holding some kind of glass ball in his hand.

“Hey Draco?” Harry asked quickly as he petted Hedwig absently, “how big a parcel can an owl carry?”

“Depends on the owl,” Draco was still reading his letter from home, “ and how quickly you want it to arrive. No owl will overdo it, it'll just stop and rest of you overload it, but yours could easily carry a parcel that big,” he pointed at the care package his mother had sent which was easily three times bigger than Hedwig was and full to the brim with sweets, she'd even removed the outer packaging to fit more into the box!

Something caught his eye and he pulled one out curiously. 

“Chocolate frog?” He held his breath, “they're not real frogs are they?” Draco looked at him curiously. 

“No, it's just a charm.” Harry relaxed. It wouldn't have surprised him if they were the real thing.

“Do you mind?” Draco waved his assent for Harry to take what he liked. 

“With those you can collect the cards, famous witches and wizards. Most magical children do. I have a few hundred, you can have all my doubles if you want to start it up.” 

“Sure, thanks Draco.” At the moment he was too busy examining the frog between his fingers.

“Bite the head off and the charm self-cancels, they want us to enjoy them not be traumatised by wriggling frogs with no heads after all.” Harry laughed and did as he was told. The chocolate was actually quite good. 

“let's go, we've got flying with the Gryffindors.” Harry stood and gave Hedwig another piece of bacon to take to the owlery with her.

“They hate us, why are all our classes with them?” Draco shrugged.

“Someone's got a sick sense of humour?” It seemed everyone had gotten to class early that morning. As they milled around outside Harry was surprised to see Ron Weasley scowling at him. He turned his head slightly to Draco.

“What's his problem?”

“He's a Weasley, you're a Slytherin.” Draco said simply, as if that explained everything. Harry deliberately ignored he scowl, he wasn't in the mood for an argument. He spotted Hermione and waved. She approached with Neville in tow. Just before they got within earshot Draco muttered.

“Three galleons they're dating by fifth year.” Harry shrugged. 

“Third. He'll be her safe first but they’ll have split because his devotion bores her by fourth.” The more time Harry spent with Draco the more he was reminded of Dudley. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it wasn't something he'd be writing home about just yet either.

“You're on, Potter.” Harry trod on Draco’s foot surreptitiously. 

“Hey, Hermione, Neville. How are you?” 

"We're OK, Harry,” Neville shot a half-suspicious half-curious look at Malfoy. They hadn't been formally introduced yet.   
“Draco, allow me to present Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger.” Draco offered his hand to Neville who took it quickly and exchanged a quiet greeting.

“Honour and peace on your house, Longbottom.” Neville responded in kind while Harry surreptitiously shifted closer to Hermione. 

“Malfoy’s going to call you miss, react like you're in a Bronte novel and you'll be fine.” Hermione nodded.

“How do you know?”

“All Slytherin's get an etiquette book to learn, I'll lend you it when I'm finished.” 

"Thanks, Harry.” 

“Miss Granger, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Hermione took Malfoy’s somewhat too polite introduction in her stride. Harry watched Draco bow critically noting he kept his eyes on her face as he kissed her hand. 

They were just getting into conversation when a stocky woman with a hairstyle that wouldn't have looked out of place in a ward for electric shocks found them and hurried them towards the broomsticks that had been laid out on the lawn.

“Nice rememberall Longbottom, it's your robes by the way.” Draco muttered. Harry didn't hear Nevilles reply. They stepped up facing the opposite house and on the professor’s word, and in Harry's case feeling particularly stupid, called the brooms to them. Harry was shocked to find his jumped into his hand first time. It was one of the few who did, and he had to cover a smirk when rather than jumping into his hand Weasley’s smacked him in the face. He exchanged a look with Draco and had to look away quickly before he burst into laughter. He was glad to see Hermione manage it in her third attempt and Neville on his fourth. It was only when Weasley moved his hands away that Harry realised. The boy’s nose had been broken!

Professor Hooch, who Harry was sure was on the hard stuff she was so lively, hurried him away once it became clear the blood wouldn't stop. That left them all alone.

Harry naturally gravitated towards Neville and Hermione, and In a move that would strike him as odd on future reflection, he was perfectly comfortable it's Draco at his back. They fell into easy conversation about flying and the classes they'd shared so far. Neville was so busy talking to Harry he didn't notice his housemate picking up his dropped rememberall. 

“Hey Longbottom, how much use is this think of it can't remind you that Slytherin's are evil?” Harry took a minute step back, just enough to notice that Draco was tense and right behind him. He didn't speak for a moment. Neville looked horrified at the situation.

“What who you're calling Evil, Finnegan, you don't see any of us taunting our own housemates.” Harry slipped his hand into his wand pocket. He'd read about a rather interesting looking jinx earlier that day. He didn't know this Finnegan but he would happily acquaint the boy with his personal brand of defending his friends if he carried on. The boy seemed to realise he was in good range for a spell because the next moment he had taken off.

Harry barely had time to think. Finnegan threw the ball, Hermione screamed something like ‘Harry No.” And Draco swore. He wouldn't even remember kicking off. Every thought was eclipsed by that initial rush of being in the air, it was exhilarating and he'd never felt anything like it, he just felt right. It was only when he caught up with his thoughts that he realised he wasn't the only one flying. Draco was easily closer to the ball but Finnegan was flying straight at him. Harry reacted instinctively, it didn't occur to him that a mid-air rugby tackle might not be the best idea, even at low speed. He hit Finnegan at an angle, his shoulder popped and Finnegan howled as the sharp break of his arm cut through every other sound. Finnegan lost his seating on His broom, he was barely hanging on when Harry pulled him upright and somehow managed to land them both safety. 

The commotion had called another professor to the lawn, the stern faced McGonagall was as drip white as Finnegan had gone on the decent.

“Professor, his arms broken.” Harry gasped out, doing his best to control his response to the pain in his shoulder. 

"And whose fault is that, mister potter.” 

“His own for stealing someone else's property and trying to kill another!” Professor McGonagall looked incredulous. “He threw Neville’s rememberall and then tried to unseat Draco! Draco was at forty feet!”

“You will attend detention Mr Potter, tonight, and lose fifty point from a Slytherin, for a brutal attack on another student. Mr Malfoy is not the only one who might have been killed falling from that height.”

Harry wasn't the only one seething and even Hermione’s voice was in the cacophonous mix declaring the teachers’ response completely unfair. Harry had made sure Finnegan landed safety after all.

“Everybody to the great hall for lunch, Mr Finnegan the hospital wing. Now!” Harry spoke up again.

“Professor my shoulders dislocated, I need to get it looked at.”

“Very well.”

\--

Well this had to be a new record, he'd been here less than two days and was already in the hospital. It wasn't a difficult fix and he seemed to be coping with the pain better than Finnegan was. The other boys arm was fixed in a split second. Harry would never have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. 

“Unfortunately mister potter, dislocated shoulders are still outside the realms of magical help.”

“Not to worry Madame Pomfrey, I've had it before.” She looked scandalised. “Rugby.” He explained quickly. “Just need it popping back in, a sling and some painkillers for s few days and I'll be fine.” Luckily it was his left shoulder. He could still write and eat in his own.

“Your shoulder should not dislocate so easily Mister Potter,” Harry did his best to explain.

“It's a prexisiting injury Madame Pomfrey, playing rugby, it's a bit like having thirty quidditch beaters all with a bat each trying to do their best to do as much damage to everyone else without actually killing them.”

“And your guardians allowed this!” Harry sighed.

“It's a common muggle game, Madame Pomfrey, children play it all the time.” Harry ignored her low mutterings about barbaric sports and fragile children as she moved around behind him. She took his arm in her hands.

“On the count of three mister potter. “Harry knew better, he gritted his teeth and sure enough on one she gave one almighty heave and his shoulder was back in place. After playing him with potions, some that sounded like antibiotics and extracting promises that he would be gentle with himself for a few days and take the pain potion if he needed it Madame Pomfrey released him in just enough time to grab a sandwich and an apple from the great all before afternoon classes.  
\- 

“Everybody take your seats, class is about to begin.”

Harry couldn't help turning to Draco with wide eyes. 

“Is it normal to have a goblin for a teacher?”

“Put it this way, to even be considered for the role he'd have to be at least five times better than any human.”  
-

Harry was struggling with the specific wrist movement required to pull off the levitation charm, he was almost about to give up when his feather first twitched then as he slowly lifted his wand it moved accordingly. It was only when he looked up he noticed that Hermione had also managed the charm across the room. 

“Nice work, Hermione!” 

"You too, Harry.” In the time their exchange took place three more feathers found their way into the air, including Neville’s. 

“Oh well done!” Professor Flitwick almost fell off his pile of books in his haste to congratulate them “ten points to everyone who has managed it.” 

Almost everyone had managed the charm at least once when the bell ring to give notice of the end of the class. Professor Flitwick had already left and Harry was out the door when Ron called out to him.

“Hey Potter, how does it feel to know your parent are rolling in their graves?” 

Harry didn't stop walking, he'd expected worse although from Ron it was a bit of a blow. 

"You don't actually think they'd accept a slytherin for a son do you?”

Harry gritted his teeth and turned to face the boy.

“I'll have you know, Weasley, that my mother's best friend was a Slytherin, my godfather came from a family of Slytherin's and all three put their lives on the line for me. Frankly I don't think something as petty as what house I got sorted into could destroy that kind of love.” He didn't trouble to keep his voice down either. “But I suppose being one of a dozen or whatever means you don't understand what it is to be anything but a spare in case the others drop dead.” It was nasty and he'd regret it later but in that moment Harry had forgotten all about everything but the fact that this boy had the nerve to dare besmirch his parents with accusations of such pettiness. 

“You-know-who was a slytherin, Potter.”

“So was Churchill, what's your point?”

“Who?”

“Greatest British muggle Prime Minister, saw the country through the worst war in the history of the world.” Weasley actually sneered.

“Only because he couldn't get a job in the magical world.”

“You're going to say the same about Wilberforce, Dennis Skimmer, Lennon, Orwell and Da Vinci?” Several of his housemates and many more students besides had stopped to hear his tirade. “and if you want women, let's talk about Emily Dickinson, Marie Curie, Boudicca, Grace O’Malley.” Several people had gathered around them now. “Now run along to defence Weasley, if you're going to spend a life being that stupid and ignorant you're going to need all the help you can get.” Weasley snarled at Harry, and made as if to lunge, it was Neville who stepped up. He caught a hold of Weasley arm and pulled him back.

“You're in the wrong, walk away.” Ron shrugged out of Neville’s grip and with one last glare at Harry he slouched off. As Neville pulled the redhead away Harry heard him say.

“You saw what he did to Seamus accidentally, you saw him walk around with a dislocated shoulder so calmly even Professor McGonagall didn't notice and you want to mess with him?” Harry didn't hear Weasley’s reply.  
\- 

For all his excitement about defence Harry was notably underwhelmed. Professor Quirrel was a nervous stuttering mess whose turban smelt strongly of garlic and stale sweat. 

Harry spent most of the lesson flicking through the text book and scribbling notes to himself in the margins. He couldn't believe how close a lot of muggle literature was to the truth. 

He was glad to escape the room when the bell rang and Draco caught up with him almost immediately. Harry was so busy sorting his bag out he almost walked headfirst into Professor Snape.

"Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy. A word.” Harry's heart sank. This had to be about Finnegan. “Perhaps one of you would like to explain why you both have detentions and Slytherin are fifty points down.” Harry thought he would have preferred it if professor Snape shouted at them. The calm voice just made him feel guilty for no good reason. Harry exchanged a look with Draco.

“Weasley’s broke his own nose. Finnegan stole Longbottom’s rememberall, took off during flying and threw it, Draco tried to catch it but Finnegan was trying to unseat him so I flew into Finnegan and knocked him off course, breaking his arm and dislocating my shoulder in the process, he let go of his broom so I grabbed him and landed us both as best I could. Professor McGonagall decided I was in the wrong and assigned detention to me and took fifty points for what she called a brutal attack on another student. I didn't realise shed given Draco detention too.” Professor Snape didn't say a word.

“Anything to add Mr Malfoy?” Draco looked between them.

“Aside from the fact that Harry should definitely try out for beater next year. Nothing sir.” Harry almost died of shock, what on earth was Draco doing talking like that? He was going to get them both expelled! 

“So the Finnegan boy received no punishment?” 

“None sir.”

“Very well. Mr Potter you will come to my office at six tonight, professor McGonagall expects you both in the entrance above hall at seven. Now run along to your next class.” 

“Yes sir.” Harry was too nervous to realise that professor Snape hadn't actually given any indication that he agreed with what McGonagall had said. He was too worried what would happen tonight to pay attention to much else for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, up until at least the mid-nineties kids played full rugby in English schools, including the girls- i know i did. Yes breaks, bruises and dislocations were common, no none of us were really harmed that badly by it. (Harry's injury is similar to one i got as a kid, ran full speed at another kid, he got a cracked rib (so I’m assuming a broken arm would be possible at higher speeds and a weirder angle), i got a dislocated shoulder from falling against him funny. My parents picked me up from school, took me home, i gritted my teeth and dad popped it into place, gave me an old scarf for a sling for day or so and some ibuprofen/paracetamol. I was about 9. After two days i was back to normal. My shoulder has a habit of popping out if i do anything daft with it since- i once i overfilled my school bag with books, swung it up to my shoulder, snapped the handle and was in a sling for a week or two when i was 16. If it hadn't healed properly or the swelling didn't go down after a day or so either time they'd have taken me to hospital but there really wasn't considered to be any point back before the explosion of Health&Safety in the early to mid-2000s and i refused it once i was old enough because i didn't feel like waiting in A&E for three hours for someone to do what i could get my dad to do in less than a minute). As Harry was at school in the late 80s/early 90s I’m assuming the same would apply.
> 
> Disclaimer: this isn't medical advice. My dislocations are quick and easy because i'm prone to them, used to them and have an unusually high pain tolerance from years of martial arts, rugby and being clumsy. If you do something similar for God's sake go to A&E and get x-rayed to rule out breaks and prevent infection if it doesn’t pop in properly first time. 
> 
> The hard stuff is slang/euphemism for alcohol, usually with an implication of a strong spirit such as vodka or whisky.
> 
> Dennis Skinner is the only famous name still alive who i mentioned as a Slytherin. He is a Labour MP in the UK (if you're interested google "beast of Bolsover" I named him because he's known as having a caustic wit, straightforward demeanour and being unfailingly loyal to his constituents, party and country. For me that makes him a consummate Slytherin, and that's the highest praise i can give to one of the greatest politicians i have been lucky enough to live at the same time as.
> 
> Finally, my apologies that this chapter is late, between attending two graduations including my own, starting full time at a new job and hunting Pokemon i lost the last week somewhere. You got extra word count to make up for it. I hope it's been worth the wait.


	7. Detention

Harry’s legs were shaking as his footsteps echoed towards professor Snape’s door, had he managed to get himself expelled already? He’d been running it over in his head all day, he’d back talked a teacher and relied on his own brawn to stop himself killing another- and he wasn’t stupid he knew exactly how close Finnegan got to slipping through his grip on the way down. He took a breath.

_Your house is your family, Harry, if it had been Dudley being flown at like that you’d have done a lot more than broken someone’s arm. You did nothing wron- yeah right, I’m stuffed!_

Harry knocked as calmly as he could and entered when he was invited in. It took four steps to reach professor snape’s desk. He experienced every one of them in excruciating detail.

“How is your Arm, mister Potter.” Harry as so surprised he stuttered.

“Um, it’s ok, nothing too painful.” Snape nodded, apparently in deep thought. 

“Well then do explain to me mister potter, if you are neither in pain nor stupid what possessed you to begin a feud with a boy in your year who has six older brothers?” Harry frowned.

“Oh you mean Weasley?” No answer. “We professor I tend to find that people with too much ego and not enough sense don’t understand how not to provoke someone with twice their entire muscle mass in his left arm.”

“Do not assume that physical prowess will protect you from magical attack mister potter.”

“I don’t but right now we know how to turn matches into needles and make feathers float, and Weasley struggled with that. He’s nowhere near capable of hexing me yet, and frankly he’s used to being the biggest boy in the playground I know the type.”

“And what type would that be. Mister Potter.”

“That would be the kind of toerag who thinks because he’s taller, bigger or louder than someone else he can say, do or treat them how he wants and his big brother’s will look after him. I just happen to be the type who makes fun out of bringing them down a peg or two.” Professor Snape didn’t seem amused, on the contrary harry was almost sure that he’d managed to make the professor angry.

“And as for Finnegan, he’s basically turned Longbottom into a fresh target, ever Gryffindor in that house knows Neville isn’t the fighting sort, and Finnegan went out of his way to bully him. Frankly he’s lucky he only got a broken arm, he tries it again and he can make his own way back to terra firma.”

“It is not wise to make such threats mister Potter.”

“I don’t make threats, professor, I protect my friends and I take whatever punishment I have to for doing so.” And Harry was off, “He would have killed Draco, he hasn’t got anything like the strength to have kept them both airborne, and he’s twice Draco’s size. Draco is one of the few people in this place who treats me like a human being, and I don’t care who his family are or what they’re supposed to have done, if someone treats me right I treat them right.” 

“Quite the speech, Mister Potter.” Harry took the hint and shut up. 

“Sorry.”

“Never apologise for being loyal, mister Potter, it does you credit as a young Slytherin, simply be aware; There are more Slytherins ways of doing it than behaving like a Gryffindor, many which include not drawing the wrath of your professors.”

Harry gaped. Was Snape basically telling him not to get caught? 

“You have a detention to attend Mister Potter.” Harry jumped to his feet. “And should professor McGonagall enquire, our conversation tonight consisted of you rather begrudgingly accepting that physical violence is not the answer to clashes of personality at Hogwarts.” Harry slumped his shoulders and Professor Snap’s lip quirked in approval as harry turned to the door.

“Thank you, professor.”

“Oh, and mister Potter, please contact your aunt and confirm what time she would like to see you on Halloween, and advise that your head of house will be attending for your security.” 

Harry whipped around in surprise.

“I can still go?” After all this trouble he’d been working himself up convincing himself he wouldn’t be allowed.

“Visiting one’s parent’s grave on their anniversary is not a privilege, it is a right. Even Azkaban detainees can apply for leave for such occasions. And I daresay that you mother would roll were we to attempt stop you for such a small infraction, and your father would join her if you considered accepting any attempt to do so.” 

“You knew my dad as well?” Professor Snape nodded lightly. Harry was suddenly very aware that the professor wouldn’t quite meet his eye on the topic.

“I daresay that James Potter would be proud of you today, not least for your apparent natural ability on a broomstick. He was the Gryffindor chaser for several years.” Professor Snape met his eye when he said that but the small glint of a smile was gone from his eyes as he did so. It made harry wonder what had happened, and it also made him wonder how close his mother and his head of house had really been. He had more sense to ask and not enough time to do so and make it to his detention even if he tried. And really, he didn't want to know. 

-

Harry sighed, polishing trophies wasn't exactly easy when he had one arm on a sling, and Filtch the caretaker was a slave driver. At least he mostly left them to it though. He had high standards but Harry had cleaned his bike and helped aunt petunia with the brass and silver wear enough that he knew what he was doing. It would have been fine really, it Draco’s hands hadn't started blistering and bleeding. Harry had figured Draco for a rich boy but his hands had no wear at all and it showed. It wasn't even the damage it was Filtch taunting him about it. Draco was trying bloody hard to get this done properly it if he didn't get his hands looked at he wouldn't be able to hold a quill in the morning. It took everything Harry had and a lot of quiet murmuring to let it be from Draco to stop him throwing the stupid trophy at the man's stupid head. 

When they finally got put Harry frogmarched Draco to the hospital wing, although to be fair he didn't need much convincing. Madame Pomfrey nearly had kittens! She gave Draco a salve and assured him he would be fine although those kinds of blisters would need gentle treatment for a day or so.

“Filtch will pay for this, just you wait until I tell my father about it. I'll have his job!”

Harry put a hand on Draco's arm. 

“But Draco that would spoil all my fun. Why take his job when you can trap him in it and make him miserable?” Draco looked confused. “You haven't seen anything until you've seen what I can do with a few everyday objects and a little imagination.”

“Would you talk sense, Potter?”

“I am Draco, I'm talking about a prank war.” Draco's smile nearly lit up the whole corridor around them. “Malachite.” The portrait swung open and admitted them to the common room a moment later.

Harry went to bed that night hurting and seething in equal measure, by morning he had the beginnings of a reign of hell the likes of which Hogwarts could not possibly have ever known in the making. Filtch was going to pay dearly for his sadistic bit of fun.

-

Harry let the week, and then the next pass in relative peace. Draco’s hands slowly healed and classes returned to normal. The Slytherins hourglass in the great hall filled back up and normality resumed. But as the air turned colder and October beckoned Harry went into full overdrive. He’d been slowly ordering, requesting items from home and planning for days. He’d even manged to get some of the other Slytherins involved. 

It started innocuously enough; portraits moving around in corridors (they used levitation charms for that, they wanted to move them not destroy them after all), the suits of armour suddenly being knee deep in mud, a sink overflowing in the bathroom above filtch’s office, carpet’s covering bare spots on the walls as tapestries, random steps on the staircases developing oil puddles. Filtch was definitely earning his wage as Halloween approached. The pranks turned seasonal near the end of October; Zonko’s flying witch toys invading the great hall at breakfast time and chasing the owls, stink bombs in the DADA classroom, The gargoyle guarding the headmasters office painted pink and then refusing to have the paint removed (he did not take as much convincing as Harry expected). The week before Halloween Harry became preoccupied with thoughts of the date and his trip to meet Aunt Petunia with Professor Snape. Even Weasley shut up as the date arrived, but that might have been pure knuckle-headed anticipation of the sweet treats that would be available at the Halloween feast. 

Aunt petunia wrote the day before Halloween reminding harry to wear warm clothes and to come to the house first. Harry had gone quiet as he'd done his best to charm a few seedlings for the grave, he knew it was a muggle cemetery too so he was subtle. Professor Snape taught him a charm that would keep the flower warm during cold snaps and stop it from dying off (Harry also noted that it was the same charm that had been on Hedwig’s owl treats, which it took him a few goes but he managed to get right in the end). He planned to plant a row at the head and foot of the grave, to give it some year round colour once they flowered. Aunt petunia had taught him a lot about gardening growing up, he enjoyed it and she'd encouraged him to get himself dirty and learn how to care for the garden at home. 

The day of Halloween classes finished at three and the feast was due to start at half past six. The second potions finished with a nod of thanks to professor Snape for not making it too much of a practical class Harry packed up and was out the door. He needed to be in the entrance hall for half past. He didn't even wait for Draco. He was already in his room tipping out his school stuff from his bag and pocketing what he needed, checking he had his wand in his robes, changing out of his trainers into smart shoes (with a handy impervious charm professor Flitwick had provided on request), ragging a comb through his hair for all the good it did and pulling his scarf around his neck and his gloves on. Harry made it to the entrance hall two minutes early. He took a second to catch his breath and double-triple check he had everything. The seedlings he'd been working on were tucked safely into his pocket. 

Professor Snape greeted him almost warmly and indicated for him to walk. 

“As you are carrying seedlings and dressed smartly I have deemed it prudent to apparated us to the small snicket behind you aunts house.” Harry was so used to professor Snape speaking in an RP accent he was momentarily thrown by the northernism. Aunt petunia called it a ginnel where no one could hear or it was an alley if they could. “Flying would endanger the seedlings in your pocket and be unnecessarily messy.” Draco had explained the different possible travel arrangements, and to Harry apparition sounded the most effective even if Draco had shuddered and warned him to tell professor Snape he was claustrophobic beforehand if they went that route. How he knew that Harry had no idea. Apparently Draco was observant enough to realise that the tall, muscular kid who's spent most of his life outdoors didn't like to be in small spaces. Ok so maybe he wasn't really that clever for noticing. 

“Um professor,” Harry ventured as the left the castle and began treckking to the gates, “you should probably know, I'm a bit claustrophobic.” Professor Snape nodded, but didn't comment. Harry wasn't sure whether to push the issue so he dropped it. A moment later his head of house spoke

“Apparition consists of a momentary sensation of being squeezed very tightly. You will not suffocate you, you will not be trapped. You are entirely safe.” Harry swallowed back his nerves and nodded. 

"Is it worth holding my breath?"

“It would make the sensation more painful but you may feel yourself reflexively doing so. In such a case do not fight that reflex.”

Harry swallowed again and steeled himself as the crossed the gate. He held him arm out when indicated to do so.professor Snape gripped his arm almost as if he were greeting him but he squeezed way too tightly. Before Harry had chance to say anything he was being apparated. It wasn't particularly painful but he was intimately aware of feeling like his ribs were going to snap under the pressure. Then as soon as it began it was over. Harry crumpled to his knees and gasped for breath, he couldn't help it. Professor Snape picked him up almost instantly and steadied him until he regained his balance. 

“I never want to do that again.” Professor Snape had the decency to hold his piece on that proclamation and simply waited for Harry to settle down. 

“Lead the way them mister Potter.” Harry looked around, they were under the train bridge by the park. He pointed weakly and started walking.

“It's about two minutes this way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to post this chapter! I'm sorry, so to make up you get chapter seven and eight on the same day. Enjoy x


	8. Halloween

“Harry!” Aunt petunia flew out of the house to meet him, she wrapped him in a hug and fixed his hair in that motherly way she had. Harry was still off balance enough to allow it without scowling.

“Thank you for bringing him Severus.” Professor Snape nodded and followed aunt petunia into the house. It hadn't changed much and Dudley was home for half term. His cousin met him with a study grip on his arm and a polite hello to professor Snape. It seemed Harry wasn't the only one who'd done a lot of growing up in the last few weeks. 

“Nice dressing gown bulldog.” Dudley ribbed lightly. Harry laughed. 

“Not as nice as your tap shoes big D.” Harry noticed that he missed his old nickname, after proving time and time again that there wasn't a kid near his age who could withstand his rugby tackle the moniker stuck when he was about nine. Dudley laughed with him. 

“Hey while the adults are talking can we go in the kitchen.” Harry looked up to see aunt petunia wave them off and professor Snape nod. Harry followed his cousin automatically.

As soon as the door was shut Dudley spoke.

“How are you really?” That was all it took for Harry to start moaning. 

“The schools a nightmare, everyone knows my name, no one actually gives a damn about me and they all treat me like I killed our hitler deliberately so I could take over where he left off because I got sorted into the ‘wrong’ house. I swear if it wasn't for the letters from your mum, professor Snape being so good to me, Draco and a couple of others I’d have flipped already.” 

"Wow. Harry that's bad. You need to sort it out before the place drives you nuts.” Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

“I nearly killed another kid in the first week, literally.” Dudley’s jaw dropped. “Knocked him off a broomstick at 40 feet and barely stopped him landing with a bang. Dislocated my shoulder trying to keep him alive and got a week’s detention and lost a bunch of points for my trouble.” 

“Should have let him fall.” Harry wasn't sure if Dudley’s blind faith that Harry wouldn’t have done that to someone that didn't deserve it was justified. “Anyway listen, I realised something yesterday.” Harry nodded for Dudley to continue. “All these years, I've never once been with you to your parents’ grave.” Harry gaped, well of course he hadn't, they weren't Dudley’s parents why would he want to?

“Yeah, so?” 

“Well you’re my cousin, I see what you're like when you go there. It tears you apart and I kept letting you go alone.”

“I was never alone-“

“No I mean with someone your own age… Ish. Someone you can properly talk to.”

“Bloody hell dudders did someone hit you too hard with a Smeltings stick?”

“I'm being serious here Harry. You're basically the closest thing I have to a brother, we grew up together. I should be there for you. Like you are for me anytime something happens.” 

“Dudley you don't have to. I know cemeteries creep you out.”

“Doesn’t matter. Listen to me a minute. Can I come with you today?” Harry blinked. Dudley wanted to go to a cemetery, on Halloween, with two wizards, practically at sunset? If his cousin didn't wet himself with fear Harry would be surprised. And then Harry realised what he's just thought, here was Dudley facing his fears and trying to be supportive and he was just being cruel.

“If you want to.” Harry ventured slowly. “I appreciate it if you do.” Dudley nodded enthusiastically. 

“I got a candle for the grave out of my pocket money, if you don't mind me putting it on?” Harry really was touched then. “It's in like a glass thing so it doesn't blow out.” He couldn't find the words so he just nodded. 

“Thanks dud.” His cousin pulled him into a hug and Harry returned it in kind. 

 

-

Uncle Vernon drove them to Godric’s hollow. It wasn't a long trip and if anyone noticed professor Snape’s discomfort they were good enough not to draw attention to it. He probably hadn't been in a car for decades. It was understandable. 

“So, usual plan?” Harry was starting to go quiet as well.

“The house, the grave, the pub. In that order.” Harry recited almost immediately. It was tradition. The one day of the year aunt petunia allowed Harry to have alcohol, never spirits and something small but something. Usually half a pint of a light lager or similar. Not enough to get him drunk but enough to settle his stomach. She'd only really allowed it the last few years. 

“The house?” Professor Snape managed to keep his voice even as uncle Vernon accelerated.

“I can see it. For some reason they can't.” He nodded at his aunts back. “There's a plaque and a statue. It a bit much but I suppose people meant well.” 

“It’s deigned to be hidden from muggles, after what happened there…” Harry didn't say anything. “The dark magic residue alone. There's a reason most muggles don't stay. It drives them insane.”

“What?!” Harry's yell made uncle Vernon stamp on the break and aunt petunia say “Harry!” In no uncertain terms. 

“Occasional visits do no harm.” Harry instantly relaxed. Professor Snape obviously knew exactly what he was thinking. Harry noted that uncle Vernon and aunt petunia exchanged glances and even Dudley had looked up from his gameboy. 

“Prolonged exposure to the dark arts mister potter, it is an area of advanced magical study. The results are not pleasant, they are suspected to also be transmitted through family lines even in magical folk.” 

“Draco's crazy aunt Bellatrix.” Harry answered almost automatically. 

“The combination of two old houses who supported the Dark Lord. Very unpleasant business.” 

“And Draco?” His best friend. Harry's gut twisted with nerves. “Young and untouched by the horrors of his parents’ generation.” That wasn't an answer. It occurred to Harry that maybe professor Snape didn't have one.

“And me?”

“The Potter’s staunchly opposed the dark lord, your father married a muggle born and your mother an unspeakable working on bringing him down.”

“Unspeakable?” 

“Not dissimilar to the muggle secret service.” Harry nodded lost in thought. If Voldemort came back, if something had gone wrong, if he wasn't really dead (Draco was sure he wasn't, rumours with no basis don't last more than a decade Draco had said), Draco was in trouble. Harry hadn't needed to ask if Lucius Malfoy the infamous death eater would return to his lords side when and if called, it had been written all over Draco's face. 

“He’s not really dead is he?” Professor Snape didn't answer for a moment. 

“The greatest magical minds,” _‘Dumbledore’_ “are not inclined to believe so.”

“That's why I need a security guard to visit my parent’s grave, why most of the school hates me for being sorted into Slytherin, they think I'll join him, or become him? Someone expects him to come for me, to try kill me again. Why everyone walks on eggshells around me, why Draco keeps telling me to be careful who tries to talk to me into the common roo-“ Harry’s breathing caught up with him, his heart was racing and he couldn't get a breath. 

“Dad pull over Harry's hyperventilating!” Harry barely took in the suddenly stop, barely comprehended professor Snape breaking every law known to wizard kind and conjuring up a brown paper bag, he barely noticed Dudley clambering out of the car to make room for uncle Vernon who rubbed his back and coached him to breathe. Eventually Harry calmed down enough to know to vault himself over his uncle and do his throwing up on the side of the road. Uncle Vernon held him up and professor Snape pressed a calming draught into Harry's hand. Harry eventually stopped retching and sat back on the edge of the car seat.

“In short mister potter. Yes.” Harry wasn't sure he was glad professor Snape was being so straight with him. He nodded and wiped his mouth.

“Sorry.”

“There's a madman after you?”

Harry nodded weakly at his cousin. 

“Well he'll have to get through me first.” Harry appreciated the attempt and the slight comfort Dudley’s declaration gave bolstered him. 

“Thanks dud.”

“You want to keep going Harry?” Aunt petunia asked gently. Harry nodded again. He couldn't look professor Snape in the face. He was silent for the rest of the drive, thinking mostly but also planning. If Voldemort was coming for him he needed to be ready.

They piled out the car and trooped to the house. Aunt petunia had visited when his parents were alive. Harry moved slowly as he approached the fence. He put his hand on the top of the gate and sighed. It took a moment then he jumped as the fence began to flow under his hand. The first time he’d seen this he thought he was hallucinating and aunt petunia had been up with him for weeks afterwards when he had nightmares about old ruined houses and things jumping out at him that he hadn’t been able to see before. Now though he just gripped the fence and looked over the house. Sometimes he convinced himself he could remember bits of it, a flash of green light.

“Professor,” harry asked before he could stop himself, “Does the killing curse happen to be bright green?” he was braced for the answer but it still shook him when it came. 

Dudley squeezed his arm in support. “Those dreams I used to have dud, remember?” 

“I remember you screaming.” Dudley offered. “You were dreaming about… that night?” Harry nodded without speaking, he wasn’t sure he trusted his stomach not to turn again if he opened his mouth. Before their deaths, I had all been abstract, distant, but now he’d seen magic with his own eyes; he knew who Voldemort was and what he’d done, he had seen his dads name on the quidditch club and his mums charms club awards for outstanding contributions three years in a row. He knew him mum had excelled at potions and his dad had been good at transfiguration. They were real people now, people who he shared experiences with, he connected with the memory of them in a way he’d never done before he went to Hogwarts. They’d worn school robes, they’d been sorted and visited Ollivander, his dad had been a natural flyer, his mum apparently couldn’t even get the broom to come near her, but she could apparate after two lessons though. All these things he’d learned, they were human beings who’d died in that house, who were laid under that headstone down the road. 

“We need to go if you want to plant those seeds in the daytime Harry.” Harry followed lost in his own thoughts, as aunt petunia led the way harry watch professor Snape as best he could. The man moved like a spy out of a film, he never seemed to have his back to anyone, he seemed to pre-empt every move everyone made, if someone so much as looked at them he was in a position to break that line of sight. It didn't take much to work out where he learned that.

-

Harry dusted off his knees and hands and stood up. The seedlings were well bedded and he’d left enough water for them to begin growing fairly quickly. Dudley produced his candle and, of all the surprises of the day that one nearly bowled harry over, Professor Snape produced a lighter.

“You smoke?” Uncle Vernon asked gruffly when he did.

“Filthy habit, no students are exposed to the smoke.” So, yes, then. 

“I remember when you got lily started on it.” Aunt petunia muttered. “Mum and dad went mad when they found out. Must have been a year or two after you two stopped talking, she told us she’d been smoking since she was fourteen, totally illegal, and she didn’t seem to care. I never realised she was such a rebel. I think the only reason they didn’t try lock her up was because she said she was old enough to do magic outside of school.”

Professor Snape didn’t answer for a moment. 

“I made it a habit to be here after my nightly rounds and smoke with her on certain occasions.”

“She quit when she found out she was pregnant. Our doctors think it can cause damage, and yours apparently had no idea if It did or not.” 

“There has never been a recorded case of a wizard suffering smoking related complications.”

“That’s how she justified hanging out the bathroom window or going into the garden once Harry here was born.” Professor Snape actually laughed a little. They fell into a comfortable silence for a while. 

“Time to go mister potter, the feast is in a little over an hour.” Harry nodded absently. This time he hung back. 

“Professor, can I ask you something?” He kept his voice low and let his family walk ahead. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I mean I want you to but-“ Harry cut off mid speech. 

“You may ask.” 

“How old were you when you joined deatheaters?” A moment’s pause as they walked.

“I was sixteen.” Harry’s respect for his teacher increased dramatically that he’d been willing to answer that question.

“You know him then.”

“I did.”

“Will you tell me?” Professor Snape stopped walking and harry rounded back to face him. His professor suddenly looked quite ill. “I’m going to need all the help I can get professor, because when he comes, I intend to be ready for him, I intend to finish the job this time.” Something in professor Snape’s expression changed, harry wasn’t sure what it was. “Or die trying.” And then he realised, the resolve he was feeling, the sudden surge of determination, it was staring back at him. Harry didn’t think hed ever seen his professors expression more open than in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your chapter eight in Nothing so Kingly. Enjoy x


	9. Gathering Information

Finnegan was still moaning about being in pain for a broken rib weeks later. Harry's patience was starting to wear thin with the Gryffindor boy. As usual at breakfast one morning Finnegan was calling him the next dark lord and not troubling to keep his mouth shut. 

_head down Harry, mouth shut, he's just some stupid idiot with more mouth than sense_

And then Finnegan started on Draco. 

“Hey Malfoy, how does it feel to follow in daddy’s footsteps behind another dark lord.” Harry's guy twisted, of course Weasley had told Finnegan about Draco's family history, Finnegan was a half-blood he had no other way of knowing. Harry set his knife and fork down deliberately when Draco kicked him under the table. Draco picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth as if there was a bad taste in there. 

“Really Finnegan,” he asked clearly, “the best insult you have is that I owe my life to Harry Potter?” 

Silence. Finnegan was smirking. 

“As if there's anyone in this hall that doesn't.” Harry's head snapped up. Draco didn't react to him. “And as for my father, at least his choice to degrade the name didn't produce a bastard son with no power or skill to speak of. Such a shame your whore mother can't say the same.” 

“MISTER MALFOY! LANGUAGE.” Professor McGonagall’s shriek cut though the minor murmuring in the hall. 

Harry sighed and threw down his napkin before standing. 

“You know Finnegan, it's a good thing for you I'm not planning on being the next dark lord, or you'd be a dead already.” And before anyone could stop him he tugged Draco's sleeve and they left the hall together. 

Harry would hear later that several older Slytherins and even a few Gryffindors, mainly Hermione and Neville, would go up against McGonagall to justify Draco's reaction, to defend him and to complain about Finnegan’s bully tactics. Several would state categorically that Finnegan owed Harry his life and in the face of such accusations Finnegan was issued with a weeks’ worth of detentions when McGonagall couldn't pretend it wasn’t him who was causing all the trouble. Harry didn't care, he just needed to get out of there before he hit someone or threw something. 

  
-  
By the time Harry surfaced from his schoolwork again the first snows had fallen and melted and the festive season was already working itself up into full swing. Aunt petunia wrote that his flowers were beginning to sprout on his parent’s grave and Dudley wanted to know what he wanted for Christmas now he'd gotten himself a Saturday job delivering papers. Harry wasn't stupid, his aunt wanted his Christmas list and Dudley might have asked but there was a reason she had written to ask and not him. It made Harry smile. Aunt petunia wanted to meet when Harry finished for the holiday at Diagon alley, apparently staying on the train after kings cross would get him there. Dudley had been nagging to go back and she assumed Harry would need more school supplies. He didn't correct her. He could just imagine what he might find as presents for them there, barely magical seeming items with just enough power to be excellent gifts.

He had another appointment with professor Snape in late November too, he was less nervous this time. It had gone smoothly enough until professor Snape produce a roll of parchment. 

“I suggest you acquire these texts and familiarise yourself with them. If you are serious about being ready to face the dark lord you will begin here.” Harry reached for the parchment. “Mister Potter, tell no one.” 

"Thank you professor.” 

“Do not thank me Mister Potter.” 

  
-  


Harry so badly wanted to tell Draco he had a plan, but he knew better than to cross professor Snape. Especially after Lucius sent the letter. Draco had knocked on his door near midnight, well after curfew. 

“Harry we need to talk, my father, he's up to something.” Draco wasn't usually so open with his emotions, he seemed to have worked himself into a terrified mess. He handed Harry the letter without another word. Draco would say he watched as the colour drained from Harry's face, he would say he spotted the exact moment harry realised what was happening. Harry would say that was the moment he realised that Draco was one of the few people in his life he was willing to kill and die for.  
_Draco,_

_Your mother and I were disappointed to hear of the trouble you have been causing at school, you have a family name to uphold. Your only saving grace in this debacle is that you were following Harry Potter in his misdeeds. Just remember where your loyalties lie, Draco._  
We will discuss your punishment when you return home for the holidays.  
Your father,  
Lucius Malfoy.

  
-  
“So the basis of transfiguration is actually science, like, that bit there is special relativity and that bit there is basically saying that we don’t conjure anything we just transfigure the air particles.” 

“Not bad, Harry, it’s a very generalised comment but it’s about right.” Harrys mind was whirring as he considered the possibilities. He’d been struggling with the theory but it felt like a eureka moment. 

“So on that basis, magic is a form of energy like heat or movement. And we can’t make food or life because we need to maintain the natural balance of the natural world. And these things would upset that, like the natural order of things, we’d be stepping on the prehistoric butterfly.” 

“Exactly.” Harry expression must have changed because before he could respond Emily added quickly. “Don’t get excited harry, magic and electricity doesn’t mix, it just doesn’t.” 

“Wait, Yes it does, magic literally produces so much electricity that it stops other electrical things working around it, like when the power goes off during a storm because of a surge. I mean, unless I’m missing something. I saw professor McGonagall turn a desk into a pig, pigs are living beings, and she did that. Life is just electrical impulses so it shouldn’t be impossible to create life. Gamps fourth exception is nothing more than a control mechanism limiting the imagination of wizards and witches-” 

“Harry stop.” Harry cut off mid-speech. “Those rules are there for a reason, imagine if people tried it, bringing the dead back to life, harry that’s dark magic, it doesn’t revive the person just the body, McGonagall doesn’t make a pig she creates a form that looks like a pig, it doesn’t think or feel, its nothing more than a puppet, the dark lord, he used to do that with his victims. You’re too young to remember, dead bodies attacking the living, children being attacked by the corpses of their mothers, people fighting their relatives while they rotted...” Harry realised his mistake. 

“That sounds a lot like zombies, Emily.” Harry shivered. 

“Where do you think he got the idea from?” Harry blinked. 

“He knew about muggle ideas?” Emily didn’t respond for a moment. 

“There’s a rumour he was a halfblood, raised in a muggle orphanage.” She didn’t seem to want to go into detail, or maybe she just didn’t know. 

“An orphanage? In the forties? I suppose that would explain why he hates them so much.” 

  
-  
Christmas was upon them, there was a layer of frost on the ground and classes were wrapping up for the term. Harry had a lot of shopping to do. His family, Hermione, Neville, Draco, Emily and he wanted to send professor Snape something as well. 

The journey to kings cross was uneventful and Draco spent most of it in a tense silence. Lucius expected him to introduce Harry on the platform at Diagon alley, which had conveniently decided would be Draco's stop as well. 

“Draco, your father hates muggles, doesn't he?” Harry barely waited until they were out of kings cross to broach the subject. Draco nodded, he looked Ill.

“Let's have some fun then.” Draco glared at him for a moment, Harry's idea of fun at school seemed to be narrowly avoiding detention by virtue of not getting caught. Draco didn't have the greatest amount of confidence that this wouldn't cause issue either. He sighed, it wasn't like he was going to talk his friend out of it in the less than ten minutes on the train.

“Oh alright, but nothing that will get me into trouble.” He managed to suppress a shudder. Or he thought he did. The look on Harry's face told him his friend knew, or had guessed, more than he let on. 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, life is robbing me of the time to do anything but work and sleep right now but i promise i'm not going to abandon this


	10. Rumblings of change

Harry jumped off the train the minute it stopped and already had his and Draco's trunks by the time his friend found his way off the train. Their families were the only ones at diagon alley. It was quite funny to see his aunts distaste at the Wizards who clearly had no idea about muggles keeping their distance from her and her menfolk. 

“Aunt petunia!” Harry made sure to bellow down the platform to get their attention. “Come meet my family Draco.” He dragged his friend along playfully. “Alright big D?” Harry greeted his cousin enthusiastically and repeated his greeting to include his uncle. 

“This is Draco Malfoy. He's one of my best friends at school. Draco, my aunt, uncle and cousin.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” Draco choked out nervously as his parents approached. Once introduced it was obvious Lucius wasn't happy at the acquaintance. Now Harry planned to really stick the knife in. 

“Hey aunt petunia? Uncle Vernon?” Attention gained Harry dropped the bombshell question. “Do you think Draco could stay over for a few days?” Draco elbowed him quite hard. 

“We tend to bounce off each other when we're doing homework and I’d love to show him what homes like, he's never really known any non-magical folk.” With all the excitement of a young boy Harry had them trapped. Politeness dictated they couldn't say no. 

“As long as his parents agree, Harry, you can certainly invite Draco.” Lucius deposited his distaste couldn't say no and not be obvious that he disapproved of Harry's family. Draco was staring at him from behind his father. 

“Can I write to Draco to make arrangements, Mister Malfoy?” Lucius gave a slight nodded and made his excuses. Harry caught Draco shoot him a sneaky thumbs up as he left with his family. 

“So, shopping?”

\--

Harry was having a blast, he really wanted to treat his family this time so his aunt and uncle had agreed to let him wander the alley with Dudley for a while to find their gifts, and then meet at the ice cream parlour before going home. The first place Harry took his cousin was to Quality Quidditch Supplies. He promptly began explaining the sport in minute detail to his cousin after having an in depth conversation about the brooms with the owner. How long he stood and simply stared at the new Nimbus 2000 was irrelevant… And slightly embarrassing. 

Next Harry took Dudley to Zonkos joke shop. Draco had told him about something there for his cousin that was muggle safe, ish. While Dudley explored Harry approached the counter and made his request, Mr Zonko wouldn't sell them without a full explanation of why Harry wanted them but he eventually relented. He left the shop several galleons lighter and with a gift each for Draco and Dudley. Uncle Vernon was easy to buy for, a quick trip to Madame Malkins had him a tie and cufflink set that changed colour according the wearers mood when he put them on. It was there Harry asked where he could find something for aunt Petunia. Madame Malkin directed him to the store he'd bought his school trunk from. Intrigued they went there next. As soon as Harry asked he understood. The owner provided a bag that was seemingly bottomless and unbreakable and would never feel any heavier than it did empty. Harry and Dudley chose a classic black bag that Harry knew his aunt would like. They had agreed that they would simply go halves on gifts for Petunia and Vernon. If Dudley didn't understand the exchange rate Harry wasn't going to mention that the thirty pounds he'd handed over was barely a quarter of the cost of the gifts, he didn't care, He had the money this time and he was going to treat his family well. Dudley didn't want to go into the apocethary when they got there, he didn't like the smell so Harry left him outside. Ten minutes later he left having bought a beautiful chopping knife set for his professor and replenished his own potions kit. Hermione was even easier than uncle Vernon, book of the month subscription from Flourish and Blotts and Neville a rock salt crystal lamp for his nerves from Wizeacre’s.   
They made it back to the ice cream parlour just in time for the old man, Mr Fortescue, to arrive with two Knickerbocker glories and assurances that they were perfectly safe for muggle consumption. 

-  
Harry spent most of his holiday knocking around with the old crowd, piers had had a growth spurt sometime in October- he looked lanky enough that even he didn't deny it when Harry started ribbing him gently. A few days before Christmas and they were sat in the park with a bottle of cider and a packet of cigarettes when Dudley dropped the bombshell on them.

“So my boxing coach thinks I can go pro if I work hard enough.” Of course that pronouncement alone meant congratulations and support but the next floored Harry. “Which means no more of these and a lot more training.” Dudley lifted the cigarette from his mouth. Harry snorted. 

“Give me a break dudders, you got me started on them.” Dudley shrugged and offered his half smoked cig to his cousin. Harry shook his head, he'd just docked one out. Dudley threw it away carelessly. “You're serious?” Dudley nodded. Harry never thought he'd see the day. “Well looks like Smeltings has got you on the straight and narrow.” Dudley laughed mildly. 

“Says mister stays up late to do his homework.”

“My homework is interesting! I even dodged hitler in history class!” Muggle schools seemed to focus on the dictator, almost every year there was something on it. 

“Where do you go to school Harry? You never said.” Harry exchanged looks with Dudley, his cousin shook his head. 

"My parents basically got me a private place up in Scotland. Really exclusive.” Piers was shut up for a minute. "Well, tthat was an interesting few minutes." Harry commented dryly when Piers tuned back out. Dudley got the hint and stood up.

“We better head back for dinner, Harry. See you tomorrow Piers.” 

\--

Harry spent that evening writing to Emily about a tricky bit of transfiguration homework he couldn't work out. The girl had been a godsend for his class work and his overall grade in the essays too. She was a genius and he never hesitated to tell her so. She was a kind girl, halfblood like him on her mother's side, her father was some muggle Lord in name only and had been so proud she was a witch. He was a good man she’d told him, and her mother the love of his life, but not as well off as his title would suggest. Apparently he kept his seat in Parliament just to keep the estate maintained off the fees and worked a regular job as well. Harry liked her. He had a soft face and long dark curls that seemed to bounce off her shoulders when she walked. She was a tough sort of northern girl who had made it her duty be something of an older sister to him. Her Christmas gift had been difficult. It had taken Harry hours to figure out how to do it and even longer to get it to work. He tied up the small ring box in ribbon and attached it to Hedwig's leg with the letter.   
-

“Listen, Draco's a pure blood. Normal stuff for us he'll have never seen before.”

“Harry your father was much the same, fascinated by the toaster he was. And when Vernon showed him a drill. They talked for hours.” Aunt Petunia laughed fondly and uncle Vernon joined in. Harry relaxed slightly, as long as Lucius didn't stay long everything would be fine.

-

“Harry you never said there were wards around your home.” 

“Wards?”

“Yes, wards, father can't get through them for some reason.” Draco tapped his arm surreptitiously. Harry’s eyes narrowed momentarily at Draco’s obviousness, that his aunt didn’t notice made harry breathe a bit easier, she didn’t need to know who Draco’s father really was. 

“Well we’ll come out to meet him then.” Draco grabbed his arm as Harry stepped off the porch. “I suggest you stay just inside them. They stop at the gate.” Harry looked at his friend, shocked and mildly appalled. “You're… Not joking.” Draco simply looked at him. “Ok let's go meet your father.”

-

 

“Well that was scary.” Harry commented dryly. Lucius had been generally decent and respectful during the short visit. Draco would stay for two nights. Aunt petunia arrived with drink on a tray and sat down. 

“So how it is your father couldn't enter the house or garden, Draco?”

“Well, Mrs Dursley,”

“Please call me Petunia.”

“Well, petunia,” Draco began, “probably because my father was once a death eater.” Aunt petunia lost all colour. 

“You mean? He followed… Him?” Draco nodded and took a sip of his juice. He seemed confused by the taste but didn't complain. 

“My father was one of his closest and most loyal at one time.” Harry’s mouth was suddenly dry. “And between us, I rather think he still is, despite the millions he's spent convincing the world otherwise.” 

"You don’t think he's dead either then?” Dudley asked suddenly. Draco blinked but took the muggles knowing all about Voldemort in his stride. 

“No I don't, and anyone with any sense can figure that out for themselves.” Draco took another mouthful of juice. “What on earth is this? It's amazing!” Harry laughed.

“It's called dilute juice. You take some of the flavouring, and it comes in all sorts but this is orange, and add water to it and it flavours the water.” Draco seemed to take a moment to work out the concept.

“And orange isn't the only flavour?”

“They do blackcurrant and apple and in summer they do strawberry and some mixed flavours as well, tropical stuff or pineapple.” 

“Muggles! That's brilliant. You could flavour gallons of the water with one bottle.” Uncle Vernon laughed indulgently.

“If you think that's clever, kid, you've seen nothing yet.” Draco rounded on Harry. “Show me!” Harry and Dudley exchanged looks and turned to aunt petunia simultaneously. They wanted to show him the kitchen.

-

“Watch this?” Harry dropped two slices of bread into the toaster. Draco watched and then jumped when it popped up. He reached out. “Careful it's hot.” 

“Hot? How can it be hot there's no-ow!” 

“That's how.” 

“But,” Draco leaned over the toaster trying to figure it out, “it's electric Draco, no gas and no flame, electricity flows through the heatsink and toasts the bread, you use these knobs and buttons to control the heat an time so it doesn't burn.” 

“Did you just say heat and fire without gas or a flame?” Harry grinned and showed his friend the electric cooker.

-

Draco's head was spinning, muggles were geniuses. And that was what he thought before uncle Vernon called them to watch something on the six o clock news. 

“First text message, what's that?” Harry shrugged and watched. Even he was impressed. 

“So it's like an instant owl?” Draco asked after the newscaster stopped speaking.

“I think so.” Draco jumped at the explosion on screen.

“What on earth?” 

“Explosion they're closing a mine so they blow it up to get the coal out for fires.” 

“Muggles can do that?” Harry shrugged, it wasn't a big explosion. “But it would take five powerful wizards to do that kind of damage with magic.” 

“That's what it's used for in peacetime, wait until you see pictures of the atom bomb.” Dudley commented, “it's scary stuff what we come up with when we're trying to kill each other.” 

“You use those things to kill each other?” 

“Amongst other things. Those are good for killing a lot of people at once. Soldiers and armies use them, and guns too. It's pretty gruesome actually.”

“What is a gun?” 

"Boys." Aunt petunia warned, she's never liked that kind of talk.

“I've got a history book you can have a look at later.” Dudley muttered and Draco nodded his thanks.  
-

Harry and Draco had sat up most of the night talking when Harry finally decided he wasn't going to lie to his friend. 

“Draco can you keep a secret?”

“What kind of secret?”

“The kind of secret our lives might end up depending on.” Draco wouldn't look at him. 

“Harry, you're my best friend, but no. Don't tell me. My father, he's not a safe man to keep secrets from.” Harry blinked, he hadn't expected that. He wanted to push, to make Draco admit something awful so he could take it to professor Snape and the headmaster if he had to. Draco was huddled under the duvet looking very small.

“Alright,” Harry answered slowly, “I won't tell you anything I wouldn't want your father knowing. Deal?” Draco managed a weak smile in response.

“Thanks Harry.” Harry wanted to hug his friend, but he held back, Draco really wasn't the touchy-feely type.

“I won't let him get away with hurting you Draco. I won't.” Draco snorted softly and laid down to sleep. 

“You're about five years too late Harry.” Just like when Draco had been changing into his pyjamas and Harry hadn't commented on the scar above his left kidney Harry said nothing. Draco would tell him when he was ready.

“Just say the word Draco. And I'll do whatever it takes.” Draco didn't answer.  
-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This chapter is not an invitation for anyone to start smoking*
> 
> I was a British kid, the availability of cigarettes when i was younger is crazy lax, i had my first cig at 9 years old at a sleepover, in high school there were areas that unoffically the teachers didn't go to unless they wanted a light for their cig off you (We start high school at 11), it's far too easy to get ahold of them regardless of the law. Please consider that this story is based in the early 90s as you've read this. This is another aspect of Harry being that bad kid in primary school, part of *that* gang of boys it will be resolved and Dudley is the first step to that. I tried to make it obvious that Harry isn't a regular smoker and 98% of it for him is sociability and peer pressure. I've gone out of my way to avoid glorifying the practice, to make it a generally normal part of Harry's life at this point that occurs when he's with Dudley and Piers. That's all.


	11. Happy Christmas

“Harry! Mum! Dad! Wake up its Christmas!” Dudley’s thundering across the hall probably woke the neighbours as well. Dudley came screeching to a halt in the kitchen, sliding across the Lino in his socks. Harry looked up from the bacon pan. He put his finger to his lips.

“Ssh, Aunt Petunia was up late preparing dinner so I decided to get up and do breakfast.” Dudley’s mouth fell open into a perfect O before he grinned. 

“Wicked! Can I help?”

“Grab the sausages from under the grill shove them all on this platter.” He'd already piled up several rashers of bacon and a dozen slices of toast. “We might as well all just pick from it I reckon.”

“Yeah, Harry this is brilliant.” Dudley shoved a sausage into his mouth once he'd finished blowing on it between words. “Ooh, ah,ah,ooh-hot.” He spat it back out into his hands as Harry laughed. 

“You just pulled it from under a hot grill, Dud, of course it's hot.” Dudley joined in the laughter as Harry turned the pan off and finished adding more bacon to the plate. “Carry the plate while I grab the drinks into the living room would you?” Dudley didn't answer except to pick up the plate one handed and four smaller side plates in the other.  
Harry had warmed a large pan of milk and added some instant hot chocolate that he was now carefully pouring into mugs and sprinkling with cinnamon. Dudley returned a few seconds later with half a sausage still between his fingers. 

“Hot chocolate! We definitely need whipped cream them.” Dudley opened the fridge and pulled out the standard squirty cream can after Harry as finished pouring and put the mugs on the tray. Harry opened a bag of mini marshmallows from Aunt Petunia's baking cupboard and put them into a small bowl. He also grabbed four flake bars out of the goody drawer and added them to the tray. By the time he and Dudley got everything to the living room aunt petunia and uncle Vernon were already sat with a slice of toast wrapped around a sausage (uncle Vernon) or some bacon (aunt petunia). 

“Harry you thought of everything!” Aunt petunia was practically gushing. 

“You were still cooking when we went to bed last night, so I thought, why not?” he knew it was a small thing aunt petunia would appreciate not having to do on Christmas morning. “Oh, I turned the Turkey about twenty minutes ago and put the roasties in.” 

“Oh I could get used to this, Harry!” Even Dudley laughed. Harry flushed and ducked his head as uncle Vernon wrapped him some bacon in a slice of toast and handed it over before adding the finishing touches to everyone's hot chocolate and handing them out. Uncle Vernon winked at him.

“Good call, kiddo, she'll let you off the washing up now.” Harry laughed. Christmas washing up was a nightmare; all the pans, pots, platters and plates plus the good silverware, he, like any other eleven year old boy, hated even the idea of it.

“I missed my family, so I wanted to help more while I am here. This seemed like a good idea so for once aunt petunia isn't in and out of the kitchen while we're opening presents.” 

“Speaking of presents!” Uncle Vernon set his mug down after drinking enough to give himself a whipped cream moustache and picked up his video camera. “Ready when you are boys!” 

Harry grinned and seated himself on the floor by the tree. Dudley handed him a parcel at random. Harry read the label. He’d asked all his friends to write if the gift were suitable to open in front of muggles or not. Hermione, at least, had complied. Harry tore open the wrapping paper and grinned; typical Hermione. A box of chocolate frogs and a sternly worded note not to go mad and rot his teeth. Harry grinned and watched Dudley open a pair of boxing gloves before diving in for the next present. Neville had also left a note on the tag that his family would be fine with his gift. It felt like a book. Harry tore off the paper and his heart stopped. Neville had put together a photo album of their first term at school, some great panoramic shots of the castle itself and then in the back, some photos of his parents with another note tucked inside.

Harry,  
I don’t know if you have any magical pictures of them, there wasn’t much left of the house. Gran gave me most of them- our parents worked together before we were born.  
Merry Christmas,  
Neville. __

When Harry didn’t look up aunt petunia leaned over to look at what Neville had sent. Harry half-heard her gasp of surprise at her sister and brother-in-law waving up at them from the page depicting their wedding day. Harry smiled and set the album aside for closer inspection later. Dudley unwrapped set of dumbbells next. Harry got the message, Aunt petunia and uncle Vernon were getting behind his boxing career all the way. It seemed Dudley got it too. Aunt petunia handed him a gift next, one from them. He opened a three year mail order subscription to National Geographic and the last three issues he’d missed. Harry handed his cousin his gift next. 

“This one might take a bit of explaining but I’ll let you open it first.” Dudley tore the paper off the in one go to reveal a framed price of blank paper with no glass over it. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“Hold on, before I explain. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, this is for you.” Harry handed them an identical wrapped package and pulled a small frame of his own from his dressing gown pocket along with a pen. When they had it unwrapped harry wrote. 

Merry Christmas

And waited for the moment of clarity. Dudley let out an awed sound first and aunt petunia clapped her hands excitedly. 

“I was getting a bit sick of only being able to write letters and having no phones because there’s no electric.” 

“Wicked!”  
\- 

“Harry, wait here a minute would you.” Dudley was already halfway up the stairs with arms full of gifts. “We have one more thing for you.” Harry was intrigued when Uncle Vernon handed him a small velvet ring box. He opened it slowly at first until the lid snapped open.

It looked to be a silver St. Christopher set on a gold ring. He stared at it in the box for a moment before taking it out and slipping it onto his left middle finger. When it resized Harry knew it had magical properties, how had they-?

“It’s supposed to protect you.” Aunt petunia seemed almost nervous. “Severus placed the order for me and added a few protections of his own.” At her words as he slipped it back off his hand to inspect more closely. It was then that he spotted the inscription on the back of the coin. He held it up to the light curiously. 

Wherever you go, never forget your way home. __

A lump formed in his throat almost instantly. He knew exactly what this was, this was permission to take the fight to his enemy, with their blessing. This was their way of telling him they weren’t going to abandon him. “Lily, she gave one to James on their last day of school. Your father swore it saved his life more than once. I wish I could give you that  
one, but we never recovered it.” Harry reached out blindly to hug his aunt. 

“Don’t ever doubt that you have our support, son.” Uncle Vernon told him gruffly when he let go of aunt petunia. 

“I won’t.” Harry managed to stop his voice cracking with the weight of his feeling, barely.  
-

Draco had already told him not to open his gift in front of his family, he was certain aunt petunia wouldn't approve. He'd sent a small package of droobles and fizzing whizzbees as a placeholder. Harry untaped it carefully with his wand placed deliberately in easy reach. Harry opened the envelope first. He noted absently that Draco hadn't signed the note.

All pureblood sons are trained in these from a young age and most is us carry at least one at all times, don't get caught at a disadvantage. If you need a sparring partner I am fairly proficient.  
Read the book before you try anything stupid, Potter. 

A Blessed Yule on the Archaic and Most Noble House of Potter from the Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy.

“Sparring partner?” Harry laid the note aside carefully. He opened the book first and nearly balked at the title.

When a wand just won't do; a beginner’s guide to Armed Muggle Combat by Diego de la Veda translated with foreword and bonus chapters by John Winchester.

Harry stared at the book for a moment. That first name was strangely familiar. Harry could see straight away why Draco hadn't wanted Aunt petunia to see this. On the front cover in gold leaf was a stylised drawing of a sword and dagger floating above a horizontal wand. He set it aside and opened the box nervously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several obviously little bits of this were meant to be in italics, but ao3 is not playing ball, i'll come back and fix it at some point. 
> 
> washing up is doing the dishes, squirty cream is basically whipped cream in a 'spray' can, the news stories are from that year and approximate time and this will not become a crossover- i just enjoy nodding to other fandoms once in a while.
> 
> I delayed releasing this chapter until christmas was nearly here, consider it an early present from me to you. Whatever or however you celebrate i hope you enjoy the festivties.


End file.
